


Breaking the Laws

by OftenWrongSoong



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, Dismemberment, Forced Prostitution, Gore, Multi, Murder, Pseudo-incest (implied), Rape, Self-Harm, Slavery, Suicide, Unconcious Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-05-20 09:32:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19373986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OftenWrongSoong/pseuds/OftenWrongSoong
Summary: In the Beginning, there were the Laws. The Laws were;1.	A robot may not injure a humanoid being or, through inaction, allow a humanoid being to come to harm.2.	A robot must obey orders given it by humanoid beings except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.3.	A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.How, and why, would an android break them?This story is set in the Mirror Universe.





	1. Chapter 1

The trader eyed him warily, leaning on the workbench, one hand resting on his hip with an affected air of nonchalance.

“Is that it?”

“It? IT! He is a wonder, a marvel! You should thank you’re lucky stars that I’m even contemplating letting him go!”

He forced his face to stillness, kept his arms to his sides, listening to his ‘father’ spouting lies and platitudes, hoping to up the price. The old man could hardly bear to look at him these days, couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

“So why are you thinking of selling it?”

“Ah, alas! A scientist’s work is never done. There are always improvements to be made. And I’m sure you can appreciate that I need to keep progressing, and for that I need the latest materials, the newest tech. Hence the price.”

Oh, he knew about the price, had paid it over and over. Every sharp word, the blue eyes piercing like knives of ice as he withered under the old man’s glare, the words ‘useless’, ‘malfunctioning’, ‘ruined’. With every cut, every shove, every blow, he paid the price of his own failure.

“Hmm, yes, the price. Tell me, what does it do?” The trader kept an eye on the android as he bent his head to examine his nails, pretending to be bored. Such a stupid game, such a pointless exercise. They would argue and dicker over his worth and then he would be dragged away, just like the one before him, screaming for his father. Well, he wouldn’t scream, he promised himself that much. He wouldn’t weep or plead. It never worked anyway.

“What doesn’t he do? He’s stronger than ten men, smarter than the fastest computer! He can sing, dance, calculate, labour, anything you want him to do!”

Never mind the things that he didn’t want to do, the filthy jobs, the heat and stink. The fear that led to him being pronounced ‘worthless’, his terror of the dark tight spaces that left him shaking and pleading with the humans to let him do something, anything else. No good in a mine, so no good for them. Who would want an android that wept when it was afraid, screamed when it was hurt?

“Huh. Seems to me like it’d be more saleable as a novelty. I know a lot of people who might want something... unique.”

“Oh, he’s unique all right, one of a kind.” The old man’s hand trailed across his chest in a mocking caress, his gnarled hands rasping over smooth bioplast.

“And it’s compliant?”

“Oh yes, he’ll do whatever you ask.” His ‘father’ laughed, a sound like dust, the stink of rotting flesh rolling from his decaying mouth. Already dying, old man, from the day you were born.

“It looks like a man... does it... perform like one?” A dark spark in the trader’s eyes, a tidy euphemism.

He didn’t need to look at his creator to see the aged face crease into a smile. He could hear papery skin stretching over filthy teeth, feel the rank heat of his breath on his cheek, sense the moisture as the old man licked dry lips with wet tongue and crooked fingers dug into his chest.

“Now, who would make an android that couldn’t fuck?”

‘Testing his functions’ they had called it, as Noonian watched and took notes with shaking hands while his wife put their latest creation through its paces. And then, when she had finally lost patience with her husband’s obsession and left, ‘Often Wrong’ had taken over. _‘Just tests, that’s all. I’m not going to hurt you. Just tests.’_ And trembling greasy fingers on his body, panting and groaning, misty eyes and wispy hair, and pure narcissism wrapped in hubris.

“Seems like we might be able to come to an agreement.” The trader shoved himself upright.

“Excellent! Now, why don’t we go and have ourselves a drink and discuss details? I have a bottle of Saurian brandy saved for just such an occasion.” Soong reached up and gripped the android’s face, crabbed fingers digging into pliable cheeks and dragging the pale head round to meet his watery gaze. “Stay here and be a good boy, now.” He released his grip to pat the android on the jaw patronizingly.

“I always loved that face.”

 

He watched their retreating backs as Soong slung an over-familiar arm around the trader’s shoulders, guiding him to the small living area attached to the lab. He stood still, as directed, turning up the gain on his auditory receptors to listen as they haggled and drank and Soong rambled on about what a wonder the android was, and how lucky the trader was to be getting him at such a good price.

“He’s been like a son to me, the son I never had. You make sure and treat him right, you hear?”

He glanced over at the others, fettered and restrained, deactivated and dismantled. The failures, the mad and the broken, scavenged for parts or left to rot. They were all Soong’s sons, that’s what he told them all, until the day they disappointed him. And then they were useless, and he discarded them. _Time to move on. Progress, that’s the key! Perfection!_

“What if it disobeys? It’s strong, you said. If someone tries to make it do something it doesn’t want to, what’s it gonna do?”

“Oh, don’t worry! Murderous robots are pure science fiction. I program all of my creations with the Three Laws. You see, it’s a part of his core programming that he’s never to harm a humanoid, even if he wants to, and he can’t disobey a direct order, unless that order is to harm a humanoid.”

Oh yes, the laws. Hardcoded into him, twisted by his emotions into a desperate desire to please, a crippling need to seek approval from the ‘father’ that despised him. The Three Laws were a mantra, almost a religion to Soong, the proof of man’s superiority over machine, his guiding light and shelter. And that was why Soong saw him as a failure. He had disobeyed the second law; Obey. He had refused because of his fear, and his ‘father’ had taken him apart, digging through his mind with creaking fingers to root out the faulty code, but it was too late and his terror had warped and re-written him, and now he was worthless. And his ‘father’ saw it as a betrayal of all he held sacred. The ancient rules, however many hundreds of years old, were virtually a holy text to the cyberneticist. He wondered briefly if there was a patron saint of androids. Who do you pray to when you know your creator?

“So that’s two... What’s the third law?”

“Oh, just basic self preservation. That should make it easy for you to get him to behave. If he acts out, if he gets uppity, just damage him, that works every time.”

Damage. Not hurt, not punish. Damage. A thing, an object. Never mind how he screamed or pleaded or begged. Damage him, and he will comply.

“Makes sense, just like a human. I have to admit, your work really is astounding.”

“Oh yes, and the best is still to come! When I have the funds, it’s onwards and upwards! Progress, that’s the key!”

And the abandonment of those lives that you had created, the discarding of those who you deem unworthy.

“Of course. Well, I’m happy if you are. Oh, by the way, does it have a name?”

 _It. You. Useless! Malfunctioning! Worthless!_   He had plenty of names.

“Why, I named him after the most important thing!”

Law. His name was Law. His ‘Father’ had gifted the name to him like a benediction. The follower of rules. Obeyer of orders. Law. That was all there was for Soong, to ensure that his ‘sons’ were compliant. He felt his face twitch and stilled the reaction.

 “Well, it’s getting late. I’ll go and get the ludugial, and we can conclude our transaction.”

 

He was led out of the mines and away from everything he had ever known. He felt his creator’s gaze like hot steel on the back of his neck as the doors shut and the lift began to drag them to the surface. The trader was eyeing him with sidelong glances, as if unsure how the android would react. Law was impassive, resigned. Anywhere had to be better than here.

The craft was ugly and squat, seemed barely capable of lifting them from the turgid polluted atmosphere, and Law felt every straining joint in the ship’s hull as it hauled itself away from the planet like some ancient beast dragging itself from the primordial ooze. Mechanical sympathy, he thought with a wry twist of his mouth, as he dragged his hand down the interior of the cargo bay as if he could soothe the miserable craft. He turned as the trader entered, the ship’s autopilot having already taken over, speeding them on their way.

The trader looked him up and down, taking in the shabby coveralls that Soong had given him. The old man had undone them to the waist and tied the arms around Law’s hips, the better to show him off. The white-gold skin of his chest, arms and face was patched and seamed with scars from accidents and injury, but his sculpted musculature was intact, bioplast glittering faintly in the dim light of the hold. Law took the opportunity to appraise the trader in turn.

The man was human, pale and malnourished looking. He walked with his shoulders hunched and his head pushed forwards on his thin neck as if ready to head-butt the entire universe into submission if necessary. His clothes had been good quality once, but now were patched and worn. So, down on his luck. But there was a shrewd glint in his eyes, and Law got the impression that if the trader had survived this long then it was on his wits alone, and those would be formidable.

The trader snorted through his nose and turned to a small replicator bolted to the wall, his head snapping back and forth as he divided his attention between the glowing screen and the android standing placid and still in the hold. When the bundle materialised in a shimmer of particle dust he snatched up the fabric and tossed the clothing to Law, who caught it deftly and paused to examine it. Slacks, dark charcoal grey. Nothing else, no underwear or shirt.

“Get dressed, I’ll come and get you when we arrive.” The trader muttered and turned away.

“Where are you taking me?”

The trader jumped at the sound of Law’s voice and spun around to regard the android with shock. Perhaps he had thought him mute. The expression of surprise lingered only a moment before the trader dragged his pinched face into a sneer.

“The place I can get the best price for you. A place where they pay top money for anything unique or rare. We’re going to Risa, pretty boy, and God help you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t touch me!  
> Lock on  
> When you turn your backs  
> I feel like poison  
> No harsher way to treat a child  
> (I feel, I feel)  
> I dream to save myself but they’re all strangled  
> You only ever come to me at night  
> Ten thousand Nagasaki’s in your head  
> There is no love in this house  
> Don’t touch me!  
> Mommy  
> Why can’t you help me?  
> I’m your reject  
> Please help me  
> I feel like nothing  
> I feel like poison  
> I feel like nothing  
> I feel like poison
> 
> Ultraviolence – The Reject


	2. Chapter 2

Risa was beautiful. Lush, verdant forests of tropical plants rang with the calls of exotic birds. White sand stretched along placid shores, crystal blue waters lapping gently against the land where couples laughed and loved and sprawled in contentment. Mountain ranges soared on distant horizons, peaks shimmering silver with snow.

The cities, however... Perhaps they had been beautiful once.

Law saw none of this from his place in the hold, was only aware of their proximity to the planet when the wretched craft he was in bullied its way into the atmosphere, juddering with the sudden impact as gravity took hold. He knew when they landed, felt the ship sigh and settle around him, and then the door opened and the trader beckoned him out with a jerk of his head.

The street was dark and damp, but there was no opportunity for him to sight-see before he was hustled into a building and shoved along a corridor, dimly lit and too warm, rank with the stench of sweating bodies and dull panic. At the end of the corridor was a room where he was told to wait and the trader stalked away, leaving Law sitting on a rough bench under a flickering light. There were others there but their heads were bowed, shoulders hunched as each sank into their own misery. Slaves, Law realized dimly. Like him. He thought for a moment of attempting conversation, but the atmosphere in the cramped room was oppressive, and so he held his silence. 

One by one the others were led away until he was the last in the room. A faint prickle of panic laced its way up his spine. Perhaps this was it, no-one wanted him, and he would stay in this cramped room forever... He shut his eyes and forced himself to calmness, quelling the rising panic as the walls seemed to press in on him and the ceiling threatened to crush him as the light flickered once again.

“Up!” It was the trader, a single harsh word that signaled the end of his stay in this little cell. He rose gratefully from his seat and followed the man out into a light so bright that his optical sensors took a moment to adjust.

 He had never seen so many people in one place, and his head spun as his senses reeled under the onslaught of the sound of a hundred baying voices, the stink of too many warm bodies in too little space, the air hot and laden with moisture. He forced his anxiety down and looked around the room, taking in his new surroundings.

He and the trader were standing in a cleared pit-like area, floodlights throwing the rest of the room into dimness and illuminating the wares on display, surrounded on all sides by raked seating. As his shock wore off Law began to focus on the people, took note of the resigned weariness on some faces, ill-concealed avarice evident on others. He stilled his body and let his mind and face go blank as the trader began his spiel.

“This is what you’ve been waiting for, ladies and gents! Your chance to own a genuine, one-of-a-kind, sentient android, made by none other than Noonian Soong himself!”

The crowd bayed and jeered, and Law turned down the gain on his auditory receptors as the sound washed over him and he observed the sea of faces. There was curiosity, contempt, amusement. A few hands raised and waving already.

“That’s right, absolutely unique! Totally compliant! And not just another stupid love-droid!” The trader’s hunched walk had turned to a cocky strut as he stalked around the android, drawing the buyer’s eyes. “He’s smarter than any computer, and stronger than a Klingon! And let me tell you, folks, he’s got _all_ the right things in _all_ the right places!” The trader’s hand whipped out and he grabbed Law’s genitals through his trousers, and the android gasped and hunched forward in shock and pain as the audience laughed and cat-called.

“And think about this, ladies and gents...” The trader released his grip and Law straightened slowly, trying to stop his hands from trembling. “He doesn’t eat or drink, doesn’t need sleep or rest. He’ll stay young, he carries no disease, will never get sick. Now, what do you think that’s worth, huh? Who’s gonna start me off at a bar?”

“Three slips!” Someone called, and the audience laughed as the trader went puce with indignation.

“Any sensible offers?” He barked, and hands waved and voices rose, and Law stood and allowed it to drift over him. It didn’t matter to him how much they thought he was worth, or where he went next. He had no choice, he reasoned, so why care?

“One bar, twelve strips, any advance?”

“Two bars.”

That got Law’s attention, and that of most of the audience. It was the voice of a female, and he caught sight of her dimly through the crowd, the hand holding her card in the air bejeweled and glittering in the dingy light of the seating area.

“Two bars!” The trader crowed delightedly. “And a bargain at that! Any advance, anyone? Who will beat two bars?”

But although the noise of voices rose there were no shouts of further offers, and the trader announced the sale as people started leaving their seats, collecting their purchases and filing away in groups, laughing and bantering.

“You’re a lucky son-of-a-bitch.” The trader growled to Law as the lady with the winning bid made her way down the steps towards them, stopping here and there to exchange greetings and gossip with the people she passed. Law observed her curiously as she approached. She was of middle years but well-preserved, her face made up immaculately. Her dark hair was piled in elaborate ringlets on top of her head and her clothes were luxurious and bright, dotted here and there with jewels. In the dingy atmosphere of the slave pit, she stood out like a peacock in a flock of pigeons. She graced the trader with a smile as he swept up her hand and bent over it, but her dark eyes were fixed on the android, regarding him as curiously as he had her.

“Lady, a pleasure doing business with you.” The trader purred as the woman pressed a purse into his hand, and with a bow the man scuttled away, leaving the two standing in the ring. The lady quirked a smile, her eyes sparkling as she crooked one arm to him, inviting him to take it. He laced his arm through hers and she led him out onto the street.

 

Risa, the pleasure planet. A place where you could have anything you desired, for a price. Drinking, gambling, dancing, sex, violence... everything, and everyone, was for sale, for the right price. The planet was ostensibly part of the Klingon-Cardassian Alliance, but money talks, and the officials turned a blind eye to the ‘outsiders’ on the planet as long as the ludugial gold kept flowing. The dirty streets were thronged with all manner of people, Klingons strutting in their armor, growling and snarling, Cardassians striding with sneers fixed to their scaled faces. Humans swarmed in groups, scratching a living where they could, adaptable and resourceful. Ferengi were everywhere, profit their only love, calling from doorways or haranguing the tourists from stalls. And, in groups, members of the Terran Empire, bawdy and drunk, overconfident in their own superiority over the lesser races, and as likely as not to end their trip to the pleasure planet in an alley with their throats slit. Here and there were other species, humanoids with brightly colored skin, crests rising from their hair, ridges on their faces, claws instead of nails, horns sprouting from foreheads. Law’s head swung this way and that, trying to absorb everything, the woman’s arm warm against his. The press and crush of bodies seemed almost impenetrable and yet this lady seemed to breeze through the crowds with ease, waving and chatting with those who recognized her. She must be powerful, Law reflected, to walk these streets wearing so many jewels. Someone bumped into him and snarled a curse, and he shivered and leaned a little closer to the woman, feeling strangely vulnerable and exposed, wearing so little and surrounded by such a mass of life. He saw their hungry eyes, felt their appraising stares, some seemingly sizing him up for a fight, others for... something else entirely. The woman smiled at him and patted his hand sympathetically.

“It’s dreadful, little one, I know. But don’t worry, we’re nearly home. I simply can’t wait to introduce you to the others.”

He looked at her curiously, and her crimson smile broadened, her dark eyes shining. He frowned.

“You are not human.” He said, and she laughed lightly.

“You’re right, I’m not. I’m a Betazoid.”

“A telepath.” He stated. She nodded assent.

“That’s right. And I find you particularly intriguing. It’s rare for me to meet a mind that I have trouble reading, although your feelings are close enough to the surface that I can make a few educated guesses.” She looked up and nodded. “This is it, your new home.”

Law looked at the building she had indicted. It was a large property, just off the main street leading through from the auction, freshly painted in white and gold with gently curving sculptural elements gracing the windows and doors. The windows had their curtains drawn, but the fabric drapes were lush burgundy, so the interior seemed warm and inviting. A painted sign, tastefully illuminated, proclaimed; ‘La Maison de la Mère’. French, an archaic Earth language. The House of the Mother.

“I simply had to have you. You see, you match my decor!” She laughed again, her voice ringing with merriment. He looked at her in astonishment for a moment before he realized that she was joking. Of course, no-one would spend such an outrageous amount of money on a slave just to match the furniture. Although, looking at her luxurious clothes, he wouldn’t put it past her.

“Come along now, let me introduce you to the rest of the family.” Her grip on his arm was firm as she led him towards the door. He turned slightly to look at her.

“What should I call you?”

She cocked her head and smiled.

“Just call me Mother, little one, everyone does.”


	3. Chapter 3

The contrast between the dingy street and the inside of Mother’s house was such a shock that for a moment all Law could do was gape in astonishment. The door opened straight into a large lounge area, pale dusky pink walls draped with plush fabric hangings and adorned with soft lights, a bar set along one wall, made of polished marble. Here and there sculptures rose from the polished floor, their shapes abstract but reminiscent of humanoid forms. Sofas, armchairs, ottomans and several chaises occupied the space, small tables with lamps or statues dotted the room... and every seat was occupied, the various people rising with a clamor of greetings as soon as they entered. Mother raised her hand for quiet.

“Now now, calm down! We have a new member of the family, let’s not scare him to death as soon as he arrives!”

The babble of voices swiftly died, and Law found himself being scrutinized by over a dozen pairs of eyes, belonging to such a range of different people that he could hardly take it in.

“Now, why don’t we begin with a few introductions?” Mother’s mellow voice rang out, and Law found himself fitting strange names to the faces, names from humanity’s past, from myths and legends. The dark haired slim woman with the pointed ears and permanent scowl was Persephone. The muscular blonde man with the ready smile was Heracles. The red-headed woman with the freckles was Boudicca. The voluptuous blonde with the haughty look was Aphrodite. The puckish looking youth with dark curls and cheeky grin was Eros.

Their clothing seemed as ancient and exotic as their names, flowing gauzy robes and togas in shimmering pale colors, soft silks and glinting jewelry. He felt suddenly shabby, and somehow unworthy to stand in front of this pantheon with his poorly cut hair and grey slacks, scars and shoddy repairs on show. He felt he needed to prove himself somehow, and opened his mouth to explain his own name.

“My father named me...” He began, but Mother threw her hand up, silencing him with a quick glance.

“That’s not how things are here, little one.” She said. Her voice wasn’t sharp, but her tone left no room for disagreement. “Now that you’re part of our family, we’ll give you a name that suits. One that befits your place here. Any suggestions?” She looked around at the others.

“Something Roman?” Suggested Eros. “He’s got a Roman nose...”

“That’s _not_ what a Roman nose looks like!” Snapped Aphrodite with a sneer. “He’s got a nose like the front of a shuttle!”

“I can think of at least six ways I could use that nose right now!” Said Boudicca, to a gale of giggles. Law was sure that he would have blushed, if he had been able to. He wasn't quite sure what she was insinuating, but he knew a taunt when he heard one. Mother must have noticed his discomfort, and she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Now, children!” She said, her ringing voice calling them to attention. “Let’s not be rude. I think he’s very handsome! Why, with his lovely pale skin, he looks just like a marble statue.”

“Something to do with gold?” Suggested Heracles. “He’s kinda got gold eyes.”

“Hmm, yes, gold, perhaps something to do with the sun...” Mused Mother. Law quirked his head as he searched his databases.

“Apollo?” He said tentatively. Mother regarded him for a moment before beaming widely and reaching up to cup his cheek in her hand.

“Apollo! Yes, I think that will suit you just fine.”

 

He had his own room on the second floor, up a grand staircase. He had never had a space of his own before, and it momentarily stunned him when he was left to wash and dress on his own. There was a large bed occupying most of the space, plush with comforters and pillows. A desk, made from real wood, with a personal terminal. On one wall a replicator and recycling unit, and through a door a small room with a much plainer bed than the one occupying the main room, with an adjoining bathroom. Mother had given him new clothes, and he experienced a flash of embarrassment when he saw his garment, which was nothing more than a sheet of gauzy fabric. Setting it to one side he stripped the grey slacks off, shoving them gratefully into the recycling unit, before stepping into the adjoining bathroom and cleaning himself. He regarded himself for a moment in the mirror. Apollo. Well, it was no stranger a name than Law, he reasoned. He would become accustomed to it, although the reason for the name thus far eluded him. Were they artists, or performers perhaps? And why would he need two bedrooms? Perhaps the smaller one was for guests. He scowled at the thought of Soong visiting. He wound the toga around himself and looked at himself in the mirror for a moment before exiting his room and drifting quietly down the staircase to the lounge, where Mother was holding court with some of the others. Family, she had called them. But had she acquired them as she had him? What kind of a family was made up of slaves? His own, he realized with a start.

“Ah, there you are, little one!” Mother turned her dark eyes to him as he emerged, looking him up and down and pursing her lips. She drifted to a replicator set behind the bar, and after a moment's contemplation came back with a small gold circlet, which she crowned him with ceremoniously. Persephone snorted, and Aphrodite giggled.

“There now, that’s better.” Mother announced. “Although we’ll have to let your hair grow out... Does your hair grow?”

“I am able to control the rate of my follicle replenishment...”

“A simple ‘yes’ will do, dear.” Mother waved her hand. “You’ll do for now. I’m sure we’ll have work for you in no time, once word gets around.”

“What is it that you will require me to do?” Law inquired. Aphrodite shrieked a laugh before clapping her hands over her mouth, and Persephone raised an eyebrow at him.

“Do you really not know?” She said with a scowl. “I thought you were intelligent.”

“I have a combined linear computational speed of...”

“You’re a dummy!” Aphrodite shrilled. “How can you not realize that you’re a whore now?”

“Little one!” Snapped Mother, and for a moment Law thought that she was addressing him. “You know that we don’t use that word here!”

“Whore, prostitute, escort...” Persephone rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it, it means the same thing.”

“We sell fantasies.” Mother crooned. “We sell dreams. People come to us, and we give them what they desire.”

“We fuck people for money.” Sneered Persephone.

“That is enough!” Mother rounded on her. “Don’t make me regret taking you in! If you think that you have better opportunities elsewhere, then feel free to leave!” She glared at the dark haired girl who shrank back into the cushions, her cheeks flushed. “Well?” Mother demanded, her dark eyes hard as stone.

“Sorry, Mother.” Persephone murmured.

“All right, then.” Mother took a breath. “Keep a civil tongue in your head.” She turned back to Law, her gleaming smile back in place. “I’m sorry dear, I thought you knew. Yes, in a way, Persephone is right, you will be expected to... accommodate people’s needs. However, this is no shabby brothel.” She gestured with her jeweled hand, encompassing the whole room and everyone in it. “People come here looking for something that they can’t get anywhere else. Something unique, beautiful, extraordinary. Their fantasies made flesh. And you, Apollo...” She purred his new name, “Will be _very_ popular.”

 

Mother was right, word spread quickly. On Risa people tired quickly of the mundane, were always on the lookout for the next sensation, the oddities, the rarities. To those hungry for the next thrill, finding an android, sentient and feeling, white-gold and un-aging, a marble statue brought to life, was like seeing a diamond gleaming in a dung heap. And so they came to him, the curious, the hungry, the lonely and lustful. Male, female, human or alien... it made no difference to him after a while. It was just another function after all, one that his ‘father’ had made sure worked perfectly, and he soon had a group of regular customers, eager and devoted. He learned what they wanted, how each wished for him to speak and move, and crafted bespoke programs to accommodate their preferences. They brought him gifts and he cataloged them carefully, making sure to have a particular client’s presents on display when their appointment came around, all others tidied away. He learned how to prepare himself to be penetrated, which scents and lubricants each client preferred, wore the outfits they gave him. It was almost a game, almost. Except when he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Sometimes, when he had free time, he went to the lounge to watch the others. They rarely spoke to him, seemed to find him unsettling for the most part. Heracles would smile and wave. Boudicca would chat to him if no-one else was free. Persephone was distant and haughty with nearly everyone, and Aphrodite taunted him mercilessly.

It was on an afternoon when he had an hour between clients that he found himself sitting at the bar alone, watching the others laugh and gossip. He was nursing a drink that he neither needed nor wanted but had fetched for the sake of appearances. He found himself feeling lonely, in a way that he never had before. Perhaps it was having people around him but being excluded that made him feel more alone than he did when there was nobody else there. He was musing on this strange contradiction when one of them came over, and he shook himself out of his reveries to regard her warily as she approached.

She was lithe and slim, not voluptuous like Aphrodite, but without the drawn look of Persephone. Her smile was tentative, her dark brown hair falling in loose waves around her shoulders over her simple pale blue dress. Her eyes were green, or maybe blue, or possibly grey, he wasn’t sure. Her skin tone was earthy, warm. Her name was Athena, he recalled. At least, that was her name here. He wondered what her name had been before.

“Hey. This seat taken?” She gestured to the stool next to his, and he regarded her quizzically.

“Evidently not.” He replied, and she laughed nervously.

“Um, it was meant to be a joke...”   

“Oh.” His brow furrowed. “The seat is not taken. You may sit, if you wish.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess.” She took the invitation and seated herself, her fingers twining in her lap, darting glances at him. He wondered what he was supposed to do. Converse, he supposed. He searched his mind for topics.

“The weather is pleasant for this time of year.” He stated. She looked at him blankly before laughing.

“You’re weird.” She giggled. He frowned and looked away.

“My apologies. Small talk isn’t one of my strong points.”

“Evidently not.” She parroted his earlier words back to him with a grin, and he noted how much prettier she was when she smiled. She rolled her eyes.

“You could fetch me a drink?” She suggested. He rose from his seat and made his way behind the bar.

“What would you like?”

“Surprise me.”

He mused for a moment before leaning over the bar to look into her face.

“Boo.” He said. She gaped at him for a moment before breaking into a gale of laughter, causing the others in the room to turn in astonishment.

“I... I meant the drink...” She gasped. “Oh boy, you really are something else! How can you be so smart, and so stupid at the same time?”

Law frowned at her. “I was merely obeying your injunction. I thought...”

“I-I’m sorry, that was mean of me.” Athena shook her head as her laughter abated, eyes bright as she leaned over the bar to cover his hands with her own. “I don’t mean to make fun of you, that’s not why I came over. Forgive me?”

“Of course.” He was very conscious of the warmth and weight of her hands on his own.

“Good. Let’s start this again. My name’s Athena. I’ll have a whisky sour.”

“I’m Apollo.” He replied with a tentative smile as he reached under the bar for the shaker.

“One thing Mother got right with this place is real booze, not replicated bullshit.” Athena remarked as she watched Law mix her drink. He nodded in agreement.

“Yes, the chemical compositions are markedly...” His voice tailed away as he took in her amused expression. “The ‘real thing’ is much better.” He finished lamely. She grinned in reply, cocking her head at him as he shook and then strained the drink into a glass, placing a cherry on the top with a flourish.

 “Were you a barman before?” Athena asked, regarding him with amusement as he deftly twisted a sliver of orange onto the rim of the glass.

“No, I worked in a mine.”

“A mine?” Her eyebrows rose. “You? Sorry, but that seems... bizarre. You’d be wasted on a job like that.”

He made his way back to his seat as she sipped the cocktail, licking her lips with an appreciative hum.

“It was not my choice.” He murmured, raising his own glass to his mouth automatically. She nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, figures. Is that... how you got...?” She reached out tentatively as if to trace her fingers over the scars criss-crossing his chest, and then snatched her hand back hurriedly, taking a sip of her drink to cover her awkwardness. “Was that... why you were made?”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t think so, although I was never given a reason for my creation.” He looked at her. “Why were you made?”

She chuckled over the rim of her glass. “Good point. Guess I don’t know either.” She looked up at him. “But babies just kinda happen. With you... I figured that someone must have really _wanted_ you, to have gone to all the trouble... S-sorry.” She stammered to a halt as she saw his yellow-gold eyes darken. “Didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

“I was... imperfect.” Law murmured. “My... creator... saw me as flawed, and he needed the ludugial gold from my sale to buy the materials he needed for his next android.”

“Damn.” Athena whispered. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, I am happier here.” And it was true, he realized. He had intended it as a comforting lie, but it really was better to be here, even if that meant giving his body to strangers, night after night. Better that than the dark, and the fear, and the tiny cramped tunnels, the jeers of the miners and Soong’s harsh words and steely glare. Yes, he was happier here, with her green-blue-grey gaze upon him and her hand reaching for his to twine their fingers together. Infinitely preferable.


	4. Chapter 4

Over the following weeks their friendship blossomed. He found himself anticipating their meetings, just so that they could talk. He was flattered when she actively sought him out, spurning the rest of the ‘family’ to spend time with him. She seemed to genuinely enjoy his company, a situation he found confusing, but gratifying. He taught her how to play chess, and they spent many happy hours arguing about philosophy. She was a keener wit than perhaps she had first appeared, and he delighted in his ability to make her laugh, even if it was unintentional sometimes. Talking with her helped his conversation to become more fluid and informal, as did his interactions with his clients, although he would never admit that. He found his thoughts lingering on her during his private time in a way that puzzled him, and made him feel uncomfortable and warm and happy, all at the same time, filling him with emotions both compelling and confusing. The others in his strange little family became more accepting of him, and slowly he began to relax into his new life. Even so, it took him some time before he could ask Athena the question he really wanted the answer to.

 

“May I kiss you?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows shot up.

They were sitting in their customary alcove off to one side of the bar area, where they could talk about whatever was on their minds or play chess without interruption. She had her chin in her hands, her elbows resting on the table, and he had leaned forwards to murmur his question. Now he sat back slightly, awkward and embarrassed.

“May I kiss you?” He asked again. She regarded him with a mix of suspicion and amusement.

“Why?” She leaned away a little, crossing her arms on the table. Not defensive, but perhaps wary.

“I’m sorry, I... I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget it.” Law waved his comment away casually and sat back, sipping his drink and averting his gaze. Athena sighed.

“Don’t pretend it doesn’t matter, I think I know you well enough by now to know when you’re bullshitting me. And I’m sorry, I don’t want to disappoint you, but... Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t _want_ to kiss you, but...” She rolled her eyes. “I guess, being who, and what, we are, I kinda... I want to know _why_. Is it just...?”

“Because I want to kiss you.” Law looked back at her. “Because I’ve never _wanted_ to kiss anyone before. And I-I hoped...”

“What, never?” She quirked an eyebrow. “All the people you’ve kissed, you’ve never found any of them attractive?”

“Some of them, yes, aesthetically speaking. But, I like you, in a way that has nothing to do with how you look. Not-not that...” Her gaze had gone steely. “Not that you aren’t attractive, in fact quite the opposite, I think you’re beautiful, but that... I like you.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, all of you. Your personality, and-and the conversations we have. I...”

“I’m gonna stop you there, Pol.” She held her hand up. “You know that we can’t get involved, it’s way too messy, it’d only lead to trouble. Even if we both want it.”

“Then you want it too?” He felt a leap of joy as she blushed.

“It’s too complicated. It’ll only go bad. It always does. Trust me, I’ve seen it before. And if the others find out...”

“Just one kiss.” He leaned over the table, sincerity written in every line of his body. “And if you don’t want me to kiss you again, I won’t.”

Athena sighed and shook her hair. “How do you always end up talking me into things? Alright. Fine.”

It hadn’t taken much arm twisting, he mused. He felt a tremor of excitement. She wanted him too, the same way he wanted her. And here came that surge of feeling he got when he thought about her, the hot anticipation that he didn’t quite understand. He put his hands lightly on her arms and leaned forwards to press his trembling lips to hers, before swiftly drawing away with a shuddering sigh. Perfect. Everything he had imagined. Her lips were warm and soft, the tingle of contact like a spark between them, lighting him on fire.

Athena had her eyes shut, her lips pouting. After a moment her eyes flicked open.

“Is... is that it?” She stammered.

“W-what?” He looked at her in utter bewilderment.

“I guess I was expecting more...” She blinked a few times before shaking herself. “The way you were talking, I half expected you to sweep me off my feet and carry me upstairs.”

The thought of it sent a wave of conflicting emotions sweeping through his neural nets. “Do you want me to?”

“No-no-no!” She shook her hands rapidly. “Baaad idea! I-I guess I’m just confused, is all. I mean, you must have experience of kissing for chrissakes, so how come that was... _crap_?”

“I...” He was dumfounded. Hadn’t she felt it? That wonderful singing shivering sensation that had shot through him like lightning? “I liked it.” He said weakly.

“Pol, that was like being kissed by a kid!” She huffed a small laugh. “That was like you’ve never kissed _anyone_ before.”

“But I haven’t, that’s what I was trying to explain.”

“Okay.” She lowered her face into her hands for a moment before raising her head to meet his gaze. “I think I need more detail, because I am confused as _fuck_.”

“Well...” He leaned away from her, trying to clear his head. “It’s to do with my programming. When I’m with people, clients I mean, I’ve got specific subroutines and customized programming that control my behaviour. And I-I just... let them run. It’s pretty much automatic. I mean, I’m aware of what’s happening, but I don’t have to think about it, and I’m not really... part of what’s going on. I know what to say, what to do, but... It doesn’t really affect me. I don’t... _feel_ anything. Not like I did just now.”

“You don’t feel _anything_?” She was looking concerned. He shook his head.

“I mean that I’m not emotionally engaged with the process. Of course there are sensations, pressure and such, but... It doesn’t make me happy, or sad, or...”

“So you don’t feel lust when you’re having sex? You don’t get turned on?”

“Not... not when I’m working.”

“What about other times?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know yet. I’ve never... Um...”

“Oh boy.” She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Basically, you’re trying to tell me that you’ve never really been with anyone before?”

He lowered his head. He had never felt so embarrassed in all his life. She had mocked his kiss, one of the most beautiful moments of his life, and now she was going to laugh and walk away. He was wrong, malfunctioning, broken. He sighed resignedly.

“I can’t believe it. You’re probably the only virgin whore.” She laughed low, as he had known she would. “That is the sweetest, saddest damn thing I’ve ever heard.”

His head snapped up. She was looking at him almost wistfully, her chin resting again on her hands, her drink forgotten. His head spun. She wasn’t angry, or scornful. She was sad, for him. He blinked in surprise.

“I think that maybe I need you to explain now, because...”

“Oh shut up.” She leaned towards him and reached out to cup his face in her hand, drawing their mouths together, and he whimpered as their lips moved in unison, sliding and pressing, her hand slipping around to the back of his neck to pull him close. He reached for her, his hands gripping her shoulders as her tongue flicked over his and he groaned into her mouth, his mind whirling as desire coursed through him and sweet need filled his body.

“So, who’s paying who?”

He jerked back with a gasp. Hearing that snide voice was like having ice water dashed in his face. Athena’s face was flushed and scowling as she rounded on Aphrodite.

“Shut up, bitch! It’s no damn business of yours!”

Aphrodite smirked. “I figure it’s you paying him. You’re desperate enough to want to fuck a robot...”

“He’s not a robot, and nobody’s paying anyone, least of all you!” Athena snarled. “How many clients dropped you after they saw what you look like without your wig?”

Aphrodite paled and she put one delicate hand to her hair before whirling round and scampering away. Athena watched her go, her cheeks pink and breathing harsh.

“Bitch.” She spat the word with feeling. “Just because she can’t keep a lover, she has to spoil everything for everyone else.” She glanced back at Law and sighed. “Sorry. She’s bald, you know. It’s not her fault, and it’s a mean thing to bring up, but...”

Law surprised even himself when he started to laugh.

“Really? She’s bald?” He sniggered. Athena gave him a tentative smile and giggled.

“Not a single hair on her pretty head. She looks like an egg without her wig!”

Law hooted with mirth. “That’s fantastic! She can say what she wants about me now, I don’t care! Bald!”

“Ssh, ssh, stop!” Athena flapped her hands at him, still giggling. “No-one else knows, we used to share a room... Shut up!”

“Sorry, sorry...” Law cleared his throat and barked another laugh before composing himself. He looked at Athena for a moment before sighing. “Thank you, anyway. That was... wonderful. Right up until cue-ball interrupted...”

“Sssh!” She clapped her hands over her mouth to stifle her laugh. “Cue-ball! You’re such a dick!”

“Anyway, I’ve got a client soon, I’d... I’d better go.” He stood reluctantly and she followed him up, leaning forward impulsively to catch his hand.

“It was nice. I... I don’t mind if you want... maybe, another time...” She rolled her eyes with a shrug. He smiled.

“I’d like that very much.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

What was it like, he wondered, to climax? To really _desire_ the person you were lying with, to feel that yearning _need_ finally quenched? He reached up to fondle her breasts absently as he imagined doing the same to Athena, what it might be like to feel her body against his. He couldn’t summon up enough information to make the illusion real, and he sighed deeply.

“What’s wrong, Apollo? You seem so... distant.”

_Natalie. Forty-three. C-cup breasts, thirty-eight inch waist, big thighs. Wears too much makeup to hide her acne scars. Bookish, shy, overly fond of trashy novels. Hopeless romantic. Sensitive nipples, no anal play._

He sighed again and looked up at her wistfully. “I am sorry, my darling. I was just momentarily overwhelmed. You captivate me.”

She sighed and shivered as he swiveled his hips, grinding himself up into her, and he watched her cheeks heat. Not long now. He had brought her to climax once already, hard and fast as if consumed by desire, and now was the tender lover routine, slow and gentle. He groaned and grabbed her hips, shifting his pelvis until she gasped.

“Oh, Apollo...” Her voice trembled and he moaned in answer, brushing his palms across her nipples. He wondered vaguely if someone else was doing the same thing to Athena. Was she feeling it, crying out with ecstasy? Was she thinking of him? He felt the heat of his client around him as he arched his back in an imitation of completion, and he felt her orgasm jolt through her body, and he felt... nothing, just... nothing.

“Darling, darling...” He murmured, pulling her down to kiss her sweat-stained forehead, pressing her to his chest and working the last of her pleasure from her with slow measured thrusts as she gasped and shuddered.

 

She left him with every sign of reluctance and he reached out after her, his eyes full of tears which dried the moment the door shut. He sighed as he made his way to the bathroom to clean himself, looked at his face in the mirror, pale skin smeared with her makeup, crimson lipstick smudged around his mouth. He grimaced and wiped it away. Damn it all, Athena was right. Complications. This job was easy, certainly better than being back in the mine. But now everything was sour, poisoned, because he was beginning to get an inkling of what he was missing. He stepped into the shower and let the water run over his body gratefully, washing away the perfume and the sweat, the hormonal stink of the woman’s lust. He rubbed himself with the wash-cloth, his thoughts turning again to Athena, dark hair clinging to her wet skin as she stood under the fall of warm water. Perhaps she’d tilt her head back, run the cloth between her breasts and down...

He stopped, stunned. He had an erection. That had never happened spontaneously before. He wondered hazily if his sexual behavior programming was supposed to link with his emotional process like this, or whether this was another aberration, another part of his malfunctioning mind. He shivered as his hand tentatively explored his own length. Perhaps... He conjured up an image of her in his mind, her dark hair like satin running through his fingers, her eyes wide with delight, the scent of her and the taste of her mouth. He groaned as he slid his hand over his sex, burning need welling up inside him.

Someone knocked on the door.

He shuddered, leaned his forehead against the tiled wall, stilled his movements, and shut down the subroutine.

“One moment!” He called, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel, drying himself rapidly. He had an hour between clients, so it could only be one of the others. Or, perhaps, a last minute booking. His hair had grown out somewhat, but still stood up in damp spikes after he had drawn the towel over it. He slicked it back with his hand and slung a robe over himself, black and gold. Mother had said that it suited him, set off the pallor of his skin. He belted it around his hips, left it open to show off his chest in case it was a client, and strode to the door.

“Hey.” Athena. She looked anxious, her cheeks warm, eyes darting.

“...Hey.” It was if he had summoned her straight from his fevered imaginings. He swallowed hard.

“Um, can I come in? I know we’re not supposed to...”

“Of course.” He stepped to one side and she slipped in, glancing over the rumpled sheets and the tacky knick-knacks that were dotted around the room. He closed the door and cleared his throat, tried to slow his racing pulse and quell the rush of lust that seared through him as he watched her move around his room, mesmerized by the play of muscles in her legs, the fall of her hair. She picked up a ceramic unicorn and turned it over in her hands before looking up at him, one eyebrow raised.

“Really?”

“It was a gift.” He cleared his throat again. She put the figurine down and took a deep breath.

“I’ve been doing some thinking.” She announced.

“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” He murmured. She shook her head and looked away.

“No, I-I think... It was a mistake. Um, I don’t think we should... get involved. With each other, I mean.”

“Oh.” Disappointment was an emotion that was all too familiar to him. “Right.”

“It’s... it complicates everything. And, if something happens... I think we should quit, and just be friends, okay?”

“Of course.” Did she always wear that perfume? It was a faint scent, honeysuckle and spice, it seemed to cling to her skin. Maybe that was just what she smelled like.

“So, um. Yeah. Sorry.” She still hadn’t looked at him, was swinging her arms nervously. “So, I should... I wanted to talk to you in private, so... I should go now.”

“Yes.” He stood to one side as she made her way to the door.

“I... I hope that you can still see me as a friend. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.”

“Right.” She was standing with one hand on the door, he was so close he could see the pulse throbbing in her throat. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

“Because I do care about you, and...” She looked at him and her eyes were shining, her lips parted, and he grabbed her waist and pulled their bodies together, his mouth on hers, hungry and desperate as her fingers clawed at his robe and she pressed herself against him, hands slipping under the fabric to slide around his back and dig into his skin. God he wanted this, wanted her, as he had never desired anything before, and he had no idea what to expect but he didn’t care as his mind filled with desire and his senses were overwhelmed by her presence, the soft warmth of her lips and the taut muscles under velvet skin, the taste of her mouth and the sweet spice smell of her filling his nostrils as he broke the kiss to bury his face in her hair and hold her tight against his trembling body.

“No, don’t...” She whispered. “I’m sorry, we shouldn’t...”

“Please!” His voice was low and muffled as he pressed his mouth to her neck. She sighed and rested her forehead on his shoulder.

“Damn it, Pol, how do you keep talking me into this shit?” She murmured. She was trembling too, her fingers pressing against his pale back, chest-to-chest. Just a few shreds of fabric between them, he thought dreamily, mere fractions of millimeters between their bodies. He shivered and moaned, pressing his lust against her, seeking, grinding. Her fingers clenched against his back.

“Quickly. And quiet, we can’t let anyone know.” She tilted her head to meet his mouth again, her hands sliding up to push the robe from his shoulders as his fumbling fingers found the fastening of her simple tunic dress and dragged it from her body, lips pressing to her throat, her collar-bone.

“God, Pol, please!” She gasped, her words smudged across his skin as her mouth moved over his cheek. He groaned with need, her warmth and nearness everything he needed, his body shifting against her, desire driving his processes and rational thought fleeing.

“Law.” He moaned as her hand slid between their bodies to grip his lust.

“W-what?” She shuddered as his fingers swept her cleft, teasing the tender flesh.

“My name. Law.”

“Law. Law...” She breathed and then gasped as his fingers entered her, tight and wet, and he found could wait no longer, not with her promise slick on his hand. He lifted her up bodily to press her back against the wall and entered her with a single thrust and a gasp of shock. Who would have thought... was this how it felt every time?

“Ah! Ariyah!” She gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his shoulders as he ground their bodies together, his knees shaking, hands gripping her tightly.

“What?” He gasped and she unwound one of her arms to clap a hand over his mouth and stifle his cry of pleasure.

“My name! Sssh!” She panted.

“Ariyah...” He moaned through her fingers, his whole body trembling with tension. He could tell she was getting close, must need this as much as he did. He shifted his grip and tilted her pelvis until her eyes rolled and she gave a grating moan through gritted teeth, her hand leaving his mouth to claw into his shoulder.

“O-oh God, Law, please!” She ground out, and he took the invitation and pressed himself deeply into her, and he had wanted to be gentle, had wanted the first time to be tender, but instead it was like _fire_ , and her flesh was hot and slick around his sex and she was trying to scream with her lips pressed together as his lust and need pooled in his stomach. He dropped his forehead to her shoulder and thrust into her mindlessly, and as he felt his peak rushing up on him he turned his head to grip her neck with his mouth, muffling his cries in her skin as her nails dug into him and her body clenched around him. She dropped her head to his shoulder to cry out as her orgasm ripped through her in a shuddering wave, and Law’s mind contracted until all he was aware of was the extraordinary heat and pressure surrounding him and then a blinding intensity of sensation thundered through his shaking body and shattered his mind into brilliant shards of euphoria before his climax abated and he was left satiated and astonished.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck...” Ariyah panted into his shoulder, her trembling legs loosening. He held her as long as he could, unwilling to allow this moment to end. He was breathing hard, shaking all over with the shock of the intensity of emotion that had torn through him, his eyes wide in amazement.

“Put me down.” She mumbled, and he gently withdrew himself from her body with a moan and lowered her until her feet were on the floor. They stayed there a moment, wrapped around each other, and Law listened to her thundering heartbeat and thought he had never heard anything so wonderful.


	6. Chapter 6

He was in the lounge with Eros chatting about nothing in particular when Mother approached. He was startled to see that her usual calm demeanor had slipped and she seemed anxious and on edge, although her smile was still firmly in place.

“Ah, there you are! I’m glad I’ve caught the two of you together.” Her voice trembled. “Eros, darling, Apollo has a booking from Durhatt, and I’d like you to explain what will be required of him.” With that she pressed her lips together in something not quite a smile and drifted away, leaving Law staring after her in confusion.

“What was that about?” He asked, turning back to Eros, and was shocked to see that the young man had paled, looked almost ill. “Are you okay?”

“Durhatt. Fuck, I-I didn’t think he’d...” Eros shivered. “Jeez, Pol, I’m sorry.”

“I think Mother’s right, you’d better explain.” Law was worried. He’d seen varying reactions from the others when discussing their clients, from excitement to amusement to outright disgust. Fear was a new one.

Eros dragged a hand over his face. “Well, he’s... He’s a Cardassian. Um, he’s powerful. Most of the town is either in his pay, or in his debt. The only reason we’re here is because we pay him insurance.”

“Protection money?” Queried Law. Eros nodded.

“Right. He owns almost all the casinos and gambling joints. He’s supposed to be the Intendant, but I guess he saw more profit in letting Risa get on with business and taking his cut. He’s powerful, Pol, reeeal big-shot.”

“Okay... so, don’t piss him off?” Law cracked a smile as he tried for humor but Eros just shook his head, his eyes shadowed.

“Pol, please, you gotta take this serious. He’s crazy, a full-on psycho. He... He likes dead things.”

“Dead... You mean, to have sex with?” Law’s face twitched spasmodically at the thought, and its ramifications. He stilled the movement with a jerk of his head as Eros nodded.

“Yeah. He’s gonna love you.” Eros shivered. “It’s not a game, you’ve gotta be dead when he comes in, and dead when he leaves. He’s rough, too. Guess corpses can’t say no.” He swallowed and rubbed his neck reflectively. “I... I couldn’t take it. I told him to stop and... Fuck, I could barely speak for a week. Bastard just went ahead and choked me out cold.”

“I-I won’t do it.” Law’s voice shook. “I can’t.”

“You have to!” Eros leaned forward sincerely, fear darkening his eyes. “He’ll make our lives hell, you understand? Hell. You don’t have a choice. Besides, you’re probably the only person on the planet who can give him what he wants.”

“Yeah.” Law shuddered. “I can be dead.”

“Or the rest of us will be dead for real.” Eros stood up suddenly, wrapping his slim arms around his chest as if cold. He fixed his gaze to Law’s.

“I wouldn’t wish him on anyone, a-and I’m sorry it’s you, but... I’m glad as hell it’s not me.”

 

He shut down as many non-essential processes as he could and allowed his body to cool to ambient temperature, stopped his breathing and relaxed into total stillness. His eyes were wide and unfocused, staring at the ceiling, unblinking and blank. He waited until he heard footsteps approaching his room and then halted his circulatory system. Three humanoids stopped outside the door, one entered, shutting the door softly behind. Law listened as the Cardassian removed his clothing, heard the soft sounds of fabric dropping to the floor, and then warm hands were kneading his thighs, running up his stomach to his chest, his neck. Still, silent, cold, he lay completely at his client’s bidding as one grey hand entered his field of vision to toy with his lips, pulling his mouth open. The Cardassian came into view as he moved around to stand at the side of the bed, turning Law’s face to his crotch and gripping the android’s hair with one hand, his own phallus with the other. He pressed his sex into the cold, still mouth with a growl of pleasure, and used his grip on Law’s hair to move the android’s head in a parody of fellatio. Law didn’t react as the ridged penis plundered his mouth, thrusting painfully deep as the alien fucked his face. He didn’t gag or cough as the Cardassian grunted his satisfaction and came in a gush down his throat.

Law’s vision was hazy with his eyes unfocused, but he could see the Cardassian looking down on him with a smile on his scaled face as he reached down to stroke the android’s cold, pale face with a sigh. As the Cardassian straightened up and moved away, Law felt relief wash over him. That had been... horrible. And painful. But at least it had been brief.

The sickening realization that there was more to come crashed over him as the Cardassian’s hands went once more to his thighs, pushing his legs apart. He remained limp and motionless as the alien climbed onto the bed to mount him roughly and one grey hand found his face, pushing his head into the cushions as the Cardassian began to fuck him in earnest. He could feel the ridges on the alien’s phallus rasping against the inside of his anal cavity, the brute strength of the body on top of his, the rank stink of his scaled skin filling his nostrils.

Durhatt sat back suddenly, withdrawing himself with painful suddenness to grab Law’s body and turn him onto his stomach, hitching the android’s hips up and chuckling as his ejaculate drooled from the lax white-gold mouth. He was utterly merciless as he set to with frenzied passion, his hands all over the cold body as he pounded Law into the mattress with increasing urgency until he pulled himself out and spurted his seed onto the pale back with a howl that turned into a laugh as he smeared his secretions into the android’s dark hair, dragging his grey fingers slickly down the immobile face in a mocking caress.

Law stayed perfectly still, listened as the Cardassian clothed himself and left the room, exchanging quiet words with the two he had left guarding the door. He waited in total silence until he heard them leave the building before he gasped a sob and shoved himself up onto his hands and knees to retch onto the sheets.

 

It took him twenty minutes before he could stumble into the shower, nauseous and shaking, to scrub himself as if he may never be clean again. The Cardassian’s emissions seemed to cling to his skin, and no matter how many times he brushed his teeth he couldn’t get the bitter acrid taste from his mouth. He finally gave up and made his way shakily back into the main room, where he bundled the sheets into the recycling unit and made the bed automatically, before staggering into the smaller room and falling onto the cot. He understood what it was for now. He would never be able to rest in the bigger bed again.

 

Thankfully he had no other appointments that day, Mother had seen to that, so he was free to take as much time as he needed to recover. Even so, it was with a slightly staggering tread that he descended the stairs to make his way to the lounge several hours later, clothed once more in his toga and circlet. He wondered wearily if he looked as bad as he felt. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to look in the mirror.

Ariyah was waiting for him in their alcove, and he smiled as best he could to reassure her, but the expression on her face told him she wasn’t fooled and he let the smile slide from his face. He jerked his head to her, indicating for her to join him as he moved to the bar. She slid into the stool next to where he stood as he rested his elbows on the polished marble surface and allowed his face to fall into his hands.

“You wanna go sit down?” She asked quietly.

“No. More comfortable standing right now.” His voice was muffled through his palms. He wished fervently that he could get drunk. She ran her hand down his back sympathetically.

“Do you... want to talk?”

“No.” He wanted her to stop touching him, and he desperately needed her to touch him, and that made no sense. He felt sick, and weary in a way that had nothing to do with being physically exhausted. He raised his head. “I’m okay.”

“You’re not. And it’s alright, you know, to admit that you’re not okay. You know I won’t think any less of you.”

“I know.” He sighed, and reached out. She clasped his hand tightly, lending him strength and sympathy.

“He hurt you.” It wasn’t a question. He scowled.

“Yes. But you know what the worst thing was? He treated me like an object. A thing. And I-I’m fucking sick of it! I’ve been told, over and over, that I’m just a machine, that I don’t matter! Do you have any idea what it’s like, to be told that the way you behave is nothing more than a pre-programmed response to stimulus? Robot, they called me, thing, it!”

“Pol, it’s okay, just relax...”

“Robot, from the Czech word robota, which means slave. A machine that works for the good of humans, with no thought as to how he might feel, or what he might want!” He slammed his free hand onto the marble to emphasize his frustration, and Ariyah’s grip tightened.

“It’s okay, I understand, but you need to calm down.”

He snatched his hand from hers to round on her, and she stood from the stool to face him down.

“How could you possibly understand?” He spat with a sneer. “How could you comprehend a _lifetime_ of being treated as if I have no feelings of my own, just another tool to be used as the organics see fit? How could you understand?”

“What do you think I do every day?” Her words were soft. “Law, we’re all slaves, we all get treated like objects, every day. I understand, I do.”

“Bullshit!” He turned away from her to grab a bar stool, brandishing it. “This is an object, a tool, it has no feelings, can’t be hurt. How can they say that I’m the same, how?”

“Law, that’s enough.” She had her hands held out in front of her as she stepped towards him. “Put it down and come upstairs. Please.”

His rage fled as swiftly as it had flooded his mind. It was like a veil being drawn back, and the face he saw underneath was his own, ugly and contorted. He had been shouting but he couldn’t remember raising his voice. He trembled as he let the stool fall from his hand, and as it clattered to the floor he saw that he had crumpled the leg between his fingers, the metal twisted and buckled. With a small cry of shock he turned his head to look at the spiderweb of cracks on the marble bar where he had struck it with his palm. Ariyah put a hand to his shoulder and he flinched, eyes wide.

“Come on, now, let’s go.” Her voice was low and soft, as if she was trying to soothe a wild animal. His whole body was shaking with shock and horror, chest heaving in hysterical gasps, tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“I know you are, it’s okay. Come with me.” She took his hand and led him away and up the stairs, and dimly he heard the voices of others in the lounge raised in consternation, but he couldn’t make out their words over his own shuddering breaths. She led him gently to her own rooms and into her little sleeping area, pushing on his shoulder to encourage him to sit on the small cot. He slumped down, his shaking hands clasped in his lap, and she seated herself next to him and wound one arm around him. Slowly he let his head fall onto her shoulder and tried to swallow past the lump in his throat and the tight feeling in his chest. She rubbed his back gently and he gasped a sob, before turning his head to bury his face in her hair and cry, weeping out his frustration and anger and sorrow.

When he could finally catch his breath he nuzzled a kiss into her damp neck and straightened up, dashing the tears from his face with the back of his hand as Ariyah reached up and removed the gold circlet to place it on the nightstand so that she could run her fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“It happens to all of us, eventually.” She sighed. He looked at her askance and she shrugged. “The moment you realize what you are to these people. It starts out almost like a game, an easy way to make money. Or, like you, you have no choice, but maybe it’s easier than what you did before. And then, one day, it hits you.” She shook her head. “Or one of them does. Either way, all of a sudden you know that you don’t matter.”

“You matter to me.” Law gave her a shaky smile and ran his knuckles over her cheek. She smiled in return and reached up to take his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“Thanks. You too.” She closed her eyes for a moment to hold his hand against her cheek before clearing her throat. “We should go back down. Mother’ll be wanting an explanation.”

“Not yet.” Law whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist to draw her close, inhaling the scent of her hair, lips drifting over the soft skin of her neck. She laughed, low and sweet.

“Now? Are you sure?”

“Not really.” He brushed his cheek over hers. “I think maybe I just need you close. Just... touch me?”

“Sure, I understand.” Her mouth found his as her hand drifted up his leg, a gentle brush of fingers on his thigh that made him tremble.

“Oh god...” He shivered as she caught his lip between her teeth gently and she laughed again, a chocolate-velvet sound that made him thrill. Her hand slipped up under his flimsy drape to caress his burgeoning sex and he pressed his face into her hair as she began to stroke and tease with nimble slim fingers.

“Please, please...”

“Ssh, ssh, just relax, it’s okay.”

He groaned as his head began to swim. He needed this, just to be close, to be held and touched with tenderness and understanding, to have something good, something pure. To release the pent-up tension that had fought its way out of him as rage. Her hands, her mouth, her soft skin, heating his body and simultaneously quenching the fire that raged in his mind, drowning his fear and anger in glorious delight. She bent down as if to take him in her mouth and he grabbed her arms and drew her up to kiss her fiercely, his peak already too close, the tension too much as he pressed their chests together. She laced her fingers through his dark hair and replied in kind, her tongue dipping into his mouth as her hand moved faster over his hardness, and he broke the kiss to press his forehead to hers.

“I love you, Ariyah, I love you...” He gasped before his voice choked away in a shuddering cry as he climaxed, spilling his tension over her hand in juddering spurts, his body shaking. She held him tight, pressing their bodies together, feeling his body and mind stilling into calm as her hand wrung the last of his pleasure from him.

“I love you, I love you.” He panted, nuzzling her neck. She shook her head with a humorless laugh.

“There’s no room for love in this game, Law.”

“I can’t help it.” His voice was muffled by her hair. “I can’t help how I feel about you.”

“I know.” She sighed. “And damn everything, I love you too.”

 


	7. Chapter 7

Durhatt liked him. Durhatt _loved_ him. On the days when the Cardassian booked him, Mother refused all other appointments for Apollo, and let the Intendant stay as long as he wanted. The Cardassian’s behavior became more vicious, slapping and pinching the cold pale flesh of the android as he satisfied himself with Law’s immobile body, as if daring him to react. Twice a week for a month, until Law found himself actively dreading their encounters. He didn’t bruise, but he hurt, and he always came away from Durhatt’s visits sore and disgusted. And then came the day the Cardassian spoke.

 

“It’s strange, they say,” Durhatt mused, perched on the edge of the bed and running his grey hand over Law’s pale flank, “for me to pay for something I could have for free. No shortage of corpses in this town.” He chuckled. Durhatt’s voice was rich and mellow, he sounded cultured and sophisticated. Law remained motionless and silent, not breathing or blinking, pulse stilled. He was face down again, one arm half twisted up his back, ass in the air and legs akimbo.

“But what they don’t know, my pretty thing...” Durhatt scraped his nails down Law’s back, “is that I _like_ knowing that you’re in there. That’s what gets me going. To know that you are experiencing everything that I do you to, but can’t react? Oh, _that_ is a heady pleasure indeed.” He leaned over and sank his teeth into the android’s shoulder and then sat back to watch the marks fade with a chuckle. “Can you feel that? Does it hurt? Ah, my lovely marble whore, always you will be perfect for me. Corpses rot, flesh becomes corrupt, the unconscious still breathe. I love you, my alabaster beauty.”

Law felt the Cardassian mount him again, his lust rubbing the cleft between his buttocks. He hated him, hated him as he had hated no-one else. Not even his father had been this vile, this vicious. He lay limp as he felt Durhatt enter him, allowed his body to sway with the movement, and held back his rage and pain as the Cardassian fucked him brutally. It was worth it though, to know that this would ensure their safety, the protection necessary for the others. He endured this for Mother, for Eros and Heracles, for Boudicca and Persephone, even Aphrodite, as much as they disliked each other. But mostly, he did it for Ariyah. To know that this would make her safe... Worth it. Worth the pain and the humiliation. So he would bottle up and hold back the searing anger, tamp down his rage, and wait. It would be over before long, and then he could seek comfort in her arms. Let her soothe the ragged wounds in his soul with her gentle touch, her soft skin and kind words, her melodious laugh. Let her hair fall down around his face in silken dark waves as he watched her eyes widen with pleasure. Let her open herself to him, in genuine want and mutual desire. Let her love him, as he loved her.

The Cardassian gave a grunt and a final rough thrust before rolling the android over with a shove to spurt his final burst of lust onto his chest. Durhatt seemed to enjoy marking him with his release, and their appointments usually ended with him smeared with the Cardassian’s emissions.

“Wonderful. So perfect.” Durhatt purred, smoothing his semen over the white-gold skin. “Now, I shall give you fifteen minutes, and then you will join me downstairs.” Law felt icy fear flood his mind. This was a break from routine, and that didn’t bode well. He heard Durhatt dressing himself slowly.

“Oh, and _please_ don’t wear that ridiculous costume. I’m sure the humans find it amusing to see you outfitted like a primitive, but I would _much_ rather you wore something a little more subtle.”

With that Durhatt left the room, and Law sat up slowly with a wince. Fifteen minutes wasn’t nearly as long as he wanted. He showered as thoroughly as he could and then picked out a simple but modern outfit in dark grey and navy blue. He hoped that Durhatt would appreciate the contrast with his pale skin. He shivered with anxiety as he opened the door and was met by the two Cardassian guards that accompanied the Intendant everywhere. They were armored, phaser rifles slung over their shoulders and scaled faces scowling, and they flanked Law as he descended the stairs.

Durhatt was waiting for him, standing with Mother near the door. Mother was pale, her eyes anxious. There were others there, some of the family, and the atmosphere was tense and hushed. He glanced around swiftly, but Ariyah was nowhere to be seen. Mother tried for a smile as he and the guards approached, but it looked painfully false.      

“Oh, little one.” She said quietly. “I’m sure you will understand. I-I have no choice.”

That was all he needed to hear to understand, and his world crashed down around him. Mother was selling him on. Or, more likely, Durhatt had made it clear that it would go badly for them if he didn’t get his way. Law felt sick with horror. He would never rest now. Would Durhatt even allow him to move, or break his silence? Or would the Cardassian simply demand that he remain some hideous living corpse, for him to use at his convenience? He swallowed hard. Ariyah. He would probably never see her again. But at least she would be safe. Yes, they would all be safe, all he had to do was go with the Intendant. At least for now. Maybe Durhatt would tire of him, or perhaps he could escape, and then he would steal Ariyah away, and they would run and run and run.

“Fetch her.” Durhatt said softly to his guards, and one turned away and stalked up the stairs. So, Law wasn’t the only one being taken. But who else had Durhatt favored? He had been the only one the Cardassian had spent time with recently, he was sure. Persephone was pale, but not very compliant. Aphrodite seemed too delicate for the Cardassian’s tastes. He heard a shriek and swearing, and then the sickening sound of a blow, flesh on flesh in a harsh smack. He knew her voice, knew the measure of her tread, and his shoulders slumped as horrified realization swept through him.

“Let go of me!” Ariyah snapped at the guard as she descended the stairs, snatching her arm from the Cardassian’s grip with a haughty glare. Law turned to look at her, and his heart ached. She was beautiful in her outrage, her indignation coloring her cheeks as she tossed her head imperiously.

“What the hell is going on?” She demanded. “Mother? What is this?”

“I’m sorry, little one, truly I am...” Mother began, but Ariyah had seen Law standing with Durhatt, and the heat left her face as all the fight drained from her body.

“Well now, I think you begin to understand.” Durhatt smiled warmly. Law glared at the Cardassian.

“She has nothing to do with this.” He growled. Durhatt chuckled and shook his head.

“I’m afraid she has everything to do with this. You see, I learned very quickly that the best way to control people is to find out what they value. Is it money, excitement? Is it their family, or their property? Once you have what they value, well... they become much more manageable. And you... you value _her_. Although for the life of me I can’t see why.”

“Damn you.” Law snarled. Durhatt smiled widely.

“I’ve been damned so many times, my beauty, that quite honestly another means very little to me. So, come along quietly, there’s a good boy, and your female comes too. And you won’t have to worry about where she is, or who she’s with, because she’ll be with me, perfectly safe. Won’t that be nice?”

“How did you know?” Ariyah demanded, her voice shaking.

“I’m sorry!” Wailed Aphrodite. “I-I didn’t think he’d...”

“How could you?” Ariyah spat, her eyes blazing as she whirled around to stalk to the trembling blonde and deal her a ringing slap. Aphrodite shrieked and clapped a hand to her swiftly reddening cheek.

“You’ve ruined everything!” Ariyah shouted as the Cardassian guard grabbed her by the arm. “How could you?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’m sorry...” Aphrodite sobbed, one hand clasped to her face.

“Enough!” Snapped Durhatt. “I tire of these petty dramas.” And with that he stalked to the door and the other guard took hold of Law, shoving him after the Intendant. Behind him he heard the voices of the family raised in fear, confusion and anger, and Mother comforting Aphrodite, and then the door shut and they were being hustled along the dingy streets. Law hadn’t been outside since the day Mother had bought him, and although it was night now the streets were just as crowded and overwhelming. As they had for Mother, so the crowd parted before the Intendant, but this time it was fear pushing the people back, faces turning away and eyes averting.

 

It wasn’t a long walk to Durhatt’s residence in the heart of the city, but by the time they arrived Law felt mentally exhausted, the fear and stress taking their toll on him as they were marched through the filthy streets. It was almost a relief to be hustled inside the casino, just to be away from the crowds.

It was, he had to admit, a beautiful place. Elegant, tasteful and luxurious. Dabo tables were presided over by beautiful women, the clack of dom-jot balls ringing in the smoky air as gamblers laughed in triumph or groaned in disappointment, drinking and wasting their hard-earned ludugial gold. A large t’Sang board occupied an area to one side, where a Nausicaan seemed to be on a winning streak, and over in a corner a group of Ferengi were engaged in a spirited argument about the outcome of their game of tongo.

None of this was of interest to Durhatt and he breezed through the room imperiously, nodding occasionally to acknowledge shouted greetings. He headed to the back of the room, where a grand staircase led up to guest rooms and holosuites. The Cardassian entered a lift and the guards followed, their captives silent and pensive as they were whisked upwards and away towards the Intendant’s private rooms.    

 

“Well now, why don’t you both take a seat?” Durhatt waved a hand casually at a plush couch as he strode over to his desk, rare wood polished and gleaming under his grey fingers as he seated himself. A Bajoran woman brought him a glass of some dark liquor, and he graced her with a smile and sipped the viscous liquid with every sign of enjoyment as the guards released Law and Ariyah and retreated to flank the door. The two captives remained standing, far too on edge to even think of sitting down in the Intendant’s presence. Durhatt regarded them for a moment.

“A strange pairing, but I think I can see the aesthetic appeal.” He mused, rolling the glass between his fingers. “Sit, please, you look at me as if you think I may attack you at any moment. I assure you, I place much more value on your lives.”

Law looked askance at Ariyah. Her tension showed in every line of her body, she was almost vibrating with her stress. But if there was one thing he knew, it was that to disobey the Intendant would be to doom them both. He reached to her and placed his hand gently on her shoulder, feeling her trembling under his touch as he drew her to the couch. She sat with him but her back was rigidly straight, her hands clenched on her knees. He wanted to draw her close and tell her that everything would be alright, but it would be a lie, and he couldn’t bring himself to speak. And so he sat mute, glaring over at the Cardassian who was regarding them with amusement.   

“I suppose you won’t believe me if I tell you that your lives here do not have to be unpleasant?”

“You would be right.” Ariyah found her voice before Law. Durhatt frowned in sympathy.

“And I understand, I do. Stolen away from everything you know, dragged forcibly away from your friends, your family. But I assure you, you will be treated well, as long as I have your obedience.” He rose from his seat to stride to the window, looking down over the city outside. “I hope that you will come to see that I am not the monster that you expect me to be. I am, at heart, a businessman, and I see opportunity. I see potential. And in you, Law...” He turned to watch the shock register on the android’s face. “In you, I see rage. Anger. Violence. You hide it well, when you are with me. But I feel it, seething under your skin. Tell me, android, do you hate me?”

“Yes.” Law ground the word out through gritted teeth. Durhatt smiled.

“Good.”


	8. Chapter 8

“How do you know my name?”

“I know a lot about you, Law. Probably more than your female does, as a matter of fact.” Durhatt drained his glass and leant forward. “You _fascinate_ me, android. I _had_ to find out as much as I could about you. For example, I know that your creator programmed you with the Three Laws, and you’ve already broken one. And that was because of a conflict between your programming and your emotional reaction, yes?”

Law gaped at the Cardassian, stunned. How could Durhatt possibly have known? Ariyah was looking at him askance, her eyes questioning.

“Yes.” He managed.

“You refused a direct order, because you were afraid.” Durhatt smiled. “What I want to know is; how far will you go? To what extent are you able to defy your programming? It was fear that motivated you before. Would you similarly disregard your core programming in anger, or lust, or love?”

“Just cut to the chase, Durhatt!” Snapped Ariyah. The Intendant graced her with a sympathetic smile.

“My apologies. I must admit, I am overly fond of dramatics. Tonight, the android makes his debut in the Pit. If you survive, you win. If not...” He shrugged. “then it won’t matter to you.”

 

They called it ‘The Pit’. More money was won and lost there in a night than in all of the casinos put together. It reminded Law of the slave auction, except that now there was a wire cage surrounding him on all sides, separating him from the audience, which was already baying and cheering, throwing bottles and waving betting slips.

There were two entrances to the Pit, tunnels leading up from the sub-basement levels into this underground arena. The tunnels had barred grids covering them when not in use, which only opened to admit entrance of two competitors, and then once more to allow the egress of the victor, and the disposal of the loser.

Beneath the Pit, the holding cells. Law had passed through them on his way into this primitive arena, and the noise and stench had been overwhelming as the guards had hustled him along, shoving him if he slowed to look around. Other Cardassian guards roamed the cages, stun batons held threateningly, waiting for any excuse to shock their prisoners into compliance. Law had shuddered as he saw a guard jab his baton through the bars of a cell, and the creature inside howled with pain as the smell of burning hair filled the air. What would a shock like that do to an android? He had no intention of finding out, and allowed himself to be herded up the slope. Now he stood in the center of the cage, bewildered and uncertain. He had no weapon, wore only the clothes he had put on at Mother’s house. The audience jeered him, hurling insults and litter at the bars. He clenched his fists as he checked his hydraulics and servos swiftly, and then kicked his boots from his feet and dragged off his socks, reasoning that he’d be more agile on his bare feet.

The Cardassian guards backed away from him and down the steps into the tunnel, and the bars slid shut after them. The crowd noise rose as the other gate opened, and Law turned to meet his adversary.

It emerged with a roar and a hot wave of stench. A fully grown male targ, bristling with spines and tusks. The crowd bellowed approval as it shook its shaggy head with a howl, spraying urine over the floor in a territorial display of dominance. It glared across the ring at Law with its tiny eyes as its ears swiveled, sizing him up.

Targs are simple creatures, the males particularly so. This targ had three objectives; to eat, to mate, and to kill. Regarding the pale upright creature that was threatening its territory, the targ swiftly discarded the first two options, lowered its head, and charged.

Law stood rooted to the spot for a moment before setting his left foot back, his right to the fore. As the enraged creature came barreling towards him, he rocked back and lifted his leg and then, as it attempted to rush him, brought his foot smashing down through its skull. The targ didn’t even have the time to cry out before it was dead, its headlong dash halted by the immovable body that was the android, and its steaming corpse slumped into a heap at his feet.

There was a horrific instant of silence before the crowd erupted into near-riot, and Law was pelted with broken glass and food as he stared down at his leg, buried almost up to the knee in the creature’s brains, his body splattered with gore. He had never killed anything before. It felt horribly wrong. He began to shake as the gates opened and the Cardassian guards emerged to hustle him away.

 

“Not what I had in mind, Law. Not at all.”

“I did what you asked.”

Durhatt raised his hands and rubbed his scaled brow, before leaning back in his seat and steepling his fingers before his face with a sigh.

“When people come to the Pit,” he said, in the tone one would use to explain something to an unruly child, “they pay to enter, and then place bets on the outcome of a fight. That is what they are here for, Law, a fight. Not a murder, or a slaughter, but a battle between two individuals fighting for their lives. And, perhaps, I underestimated you. Certainly, yes, you did as you were asked. But there was no _competition_. And in that, it is I who is to blame, for matching you poorly, and for that I apologise. However,” and here he leaned forward, “I expect you to prolong your next bout, to do as you have been taught at Mother’s house, and entertain. You are familiar with catering to the desires of your clients. Your clients now desire blood, they wish to witness the struggle.” He shifted as if uncomfortable. “As do I.”

“And if I refuse?” Law was glaring at the Intendant. He could still smell the hot animal stink of the targ on his clothes and it sickened him. Durhatt looked back at him, his eyes hooded.

“Then the life of your female is forfeit.”

Without a word the two Cardassian guards stepped forwards threateningly towards Ariyah. To her credit she didn’t flinch or cringe but sat with her back straight, glaring daggers at the Intendant. Law glanced at her warily and then back at Durhatt.

“Fine.” He spat, with ill grace. Durhatt smiled.

“Good.” He breathed deeply through his nose. “You know, you are particularly attractive when you’re angry. I love seeing the struggle within you, the desire to end this now by killing me. You _do_ want to kill me, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Law snarled, his yellow-gold eyes glowing with hatred. Durhatt shifted again in his chair with a sigh.

“Wonderful. And yet, you can’t. Your programming won’t allow it. Plus, of course, there is the threat to your female. It’s wonderful to watch you fight yourself like this. Come here.”

Law seethed silently as he crossed the room to where Durhatt sat behind his desk. He could smell the Cardassian’s arousal, see the flush of heat suffusing his grey face. Law stopped an arm’s length away from him, and the Intendant looked him up and down with a measured gaze before rising to his feet.

“Have you told her how you please me?” His scaled hand rasped across Law’s jaw, cupping his check, running a thumb across his lips.

“No.” Law’s voice was low, his eyes dark. He hadn’t told her, because he didn’t want her to know. For Ariyah to comprehend the depths to which he would sink? Unthinkable. He shuddered and closed his eyes as the Cardassian’s hands kneaded his shoulders.

“I want you now, Law. Over the desk. You know how I like you.”

Law’s eyes flicked to Ariyah’s, trying at once to apologize, and to convey the depths of his disgust. Then he allowed his eyes to go blank and collapsed over the desk, limp and lifeless, his breath leaving his body with a groaning sigh as his chest hit the wood. Durhatt purred with pleasure as he ran his hands up the android’s back, lifting his bloodstained shirt to paw at the smooth pale skin.

“What do your noble warriors think of this?” Ariyah’s voice was trembling and harsh. “To watch their valiant leader indulge his lust with a pretend corpse?”

“My ‘noble warriors’...” Durhatt dragged Law’s slacks down, “have their own predilections, which I allow them to indulge. In turn, they allow me my... foibles.” He drew his sex from his clothes and shoved himself home with a grunt of satisfaction. “Something to be wary of, my dear. I know that one of them is particularly fond of you. Continue to be a nuisance and I may allow him to have what he wants.”      

Law felt a hot burst of rage suffuse his mind at the thought of Ariyah being handed over to the guards. He resolved to do everything he could to save her from that fate, and lay still and silent as Durhatt set a punishing rhythm, pounding him into the desk with ever mounting enthusiasm until he felt the Cardassian reach his peak, whereupon he rolled Law over to jet a burst of cum onto his pale chest with a hoarse laugh.

“Lovely, lovely creature.” Durhatt purred. “I will see that your next battle is with a more challenging opponent. Do not disappoint me, my dear. All the rage that you’re suppressing right now,” he dragged his grey hand down the android’s lax face, “all the hatred and violence you hide so well, I wish to see vented upon the unfortunate who will meet you tomorrow.” He straightened his clothes, making himself decent. “Take them away, separate rooms. Do not harm either of them, or I will be _most_ displeased.”

 

The next night, Durhatt made good on his promise to provide a worthy opponent.  Law stood stock-still in the center of the ring, battered by the howling of the crowd until he felt he might buckle under the weight. He ran a swift diagnostic, checking hydraulic levels, servo functions, circulatory system.

The bars opened and the crowd bayed. It took a moment for his opponent to appear, but when it did, Law took an involuntary step back.

A mugato. He had heard of such creatures. Bipedal, carnivorous, two meters tall, not counting the vicious horn that sprouted from the top of the skull. It was covered with thick white fur, except for its hands and face, and it bared its sharp teeth in a feral snarl at the sight of Law. It took only a moment to appraise him before dashing forwards with its arms stretched out to grab him.

He leapt from its reach, darting sideways at the last moment, but the mugato seemed to be expecting such a move and swung one long arm to try and backhand him, and he staggered away as its enormous hand swept out in a move that would have taken his head from his shoulders. Momentarily off balance, Law stumbled back a few paces to give himself time to gather his thoughts, but the creature, for all its size, was swift and agile. It spun around and bounded towards him to deal him a ringing blow that glanced off his shoulder as he tried to scramble away, sending him crashing face first into the wire mesh surrounding the pit.

Through the wires the mob jeered and mocked, spitting and throwing rubbish at the android. Now it was Law’s turn to snarl as a haze of rage fogged his mind. He hated them, all of them, the sea of faces a surging crush of hot flesh baying for gore. He despised them, and Durhatt, and his father, and any further thought was abruptly cut off as the mugato grabbed the back of his shirt and flung him across the ring, his chest slamming into the dirt floor so hard that, for a fraction of a second, his optical sensors cut out and his world went black.

He staggered to his feet as the mugato charged him again, but this time he met its outstretched arms with his own and brought his leg round to kick the creature in the ribs with a blow like a sledgehammer. It grunted in pain and tightened its grip on his arms and he kicked it again, feeling the ribs shatter under the blow. The mugato roared and released him to back away, and he pressed home his advantage, punching it swiftly in the chest, left-right-left, before darting round its massive body and flinging himself onto its back.

The mugato bellowed and reached back to try and grab him, and Law scrambled up to latch his legs around its chest and deliver ringing punches to its face. The mugato succeeded in grabbing his arms and lurched its head back, trying to impale him on its horn. Law tried to fling himself away to avoid it, but its grip was firm on his arms and the vicious horn scored his face. He screamed as the bioplast ripped in a long jagged wound from temple to mouth, scorching pain in a searing line through his pseudo-flesh, scraping against the metal underneath with a shrill screech as hydraulic fluid spurted gold from the rupture. As the mugato ducked its head in preparation to try and impale him again, he lunged forwards and buried his fingers in the creature’s eye sockets, feeling the delicate orbs burst into jelly under his nails. It let him loose with a shriek of pain to clap its massive hands over its face as it doubled over in agony, and he jumped from its back and push-kicked it squarely in the throat, collapsing its windpipe.

The mugato’s shriek choked off into a gurgle as it staggered backwards, blood snorting from its nose and gushing down its ruined face. Law gave the unseeing creature a feral grin before punching his left fist straight through its breastbone, sending splintered bone ripping through its internal organs. It gasped a last futile breath before collapsing to its knees and he followed it down, raining blows upon it, delighting in the release of all his rage and hatred. This was Durhatt, this was Father, this was everyone who had ever mocked him, hurt him, used him, abused him. He screamed as he pummeled the corpse, his arms pumping like pistons, no longer feeling the pain from his ruined face, the ruptured skin on knuckles, the broken servos in his legs. He felt its organs disintegrate, felt its bones shatter, so weak compared to him, _nothing_ compared to him. He pulled his arm back to obliterate the monster’s face and someone grabbed his hand, and he leapt to his feet and whirled around with a snarl to meet his next opponent.

Instead he found himself looking into the impassive grey faces of the guards, stun batons out and crackling threateningly.

 

The two Cardassian guards ushered him out of the arena and through the complex, up in the turbolift and then along a corridor. They kept their stun batons at the ready the whole time. One of them opened a door, the other shoved his shoulder to encourage him to enter the room, and then the door shut behind him.

Ariyah was perched on a small cot, had half risen as the door had opened. Now her eyes widened in shock.

“Law...” Her voice was low and harsh.

He simply stood in front of the door. He had begun to shake as he had left the arena, and now he couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering. His rage had bled from him, leaving him shocked and horrified. Now, staring at the woman he loved, he broke. With shoulders heaving he slumped to his knees and she flung herself across the little room to gather him into her arms as he wept.

“Shush, shush, it’s okay, I’m here...” She murmured, stroking his hair, heedless of the blood that smeared her hands and stained her dress. He buried his face in her hair and howled, holding his hands open on his knees, unwilling to sully her with his gory touch.

“I enjoyed it!” He sobbed. “Oh god, Ariyah, I enjoyed it!”


	9. Chapter 9

She rocked him and murmured soothing nothings as he howled hysterically, his chest heaving in her arms, hands shaking where they rested on his knees. As his sobs slowed to gulping gasps she stood, taking his arms to pull him to his feet. She gently unfastened his shirt and stripped his slacks away to throw them into a corner before dragging her bloodstained dress and underclothes off and kicking them aside.

“Ariyah...” He gulped, but she shook her head and led him to her small bathroom and into the shower.

“Is your face... Will the water...?” She began, but he shook his head in reply and she nodded, her lips pressed together. She turned the water on and began to soap his hair, gently working the dried blood from the tangles with her fingers. He stood with his eyes shut, his breath trembling in his chest, tears mingling with the water as she rinsed away the lather and began to clean him with her washcloth, gently cleansing away the gore and filth that had spattered his body and dried rust-brown on his pale skin. She worked tenderly around the gaping wound in his face, wiped away the splatters of flesh that clung to his neck. Law opened his eyes to watch the water run red down his body as she purified him, purging him of his crimes as he stood trembling, ashamed and unworthy.

She worked tirelessly on his hands, teasing the filth from under his nails, rubbing her thumbs over his palms, before kneeling to clean his shaking legs where the gore had soaked through his trousers and splashed up his ankles. Every so often she would look up, gauging his reaction to her ministrations.

Finally she was done, and she sat back on her heels to appraise her handiwork before leaning in to press a kiss to his thigh. Law choked another sob as his fingers tangled in her wet hair, and he turned his face up into the water as her mouth caressed him with promises, gentle hands on his hips, stomach, legs, and her lips moving like prayers over his skin, whispering silent worship into his alabaster flesh. His horror receded as his lust rose and her fingers teased his hardening flesh.

“Please.” He whispered, and she took him into her mouth, sweet heat and trust and love in her gentle movements, her tongue silenced by his length but speaking to him of her desire and adoration. He lowered his head to gaze down at her, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan as she looked up at him, love and lust shining in her eyes as the water cascaded down his white-gold body. He groaned as she quickened her pace.

“Stop.” He gasped, gently untangling his hands from her hair as she sat back. He reached for her and she placed her hands in his for him to draw her up and press their bodies together, their mouths meeting in the voiceless language of their shared desire, communicating to each other of want and need and the promise of fulfillment as their lips slid and pressed and moved in unison. His hands found her buttocks, pulling her tight against his sex, his body searching, yearning, begging. Her fingers were digging into his back, her hips moving against his as her tongue slipped into his mouth to tease and tangle with his own, and he moaned into her mouth in reply as she rose up onto her toes to grind against him.

“Ariyah, I-I can’t...” His head jerked back with a cry. “I-I-I stop, stop!”

She took a step back, releasing her grip on him as he stood panting and trembling, eyes wide under the rushing water. Slowly he reached out and turned the shower off, his shaking hand fumbling with the controls.

“Law? What’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t... wait, please...” He put his hand to the wall, leaning on it as he fought to catch his breath. “I... find it difficult to... process multiple emotions.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” She murmured, dragging her wet hair back over her shoulders. He shook his head and gasped a sob.

“There’s too much in my head, Ariyah, and I-I-I-I...” He sobbed again.

“Law...” She murmured, and the way she said his name, the tone she used, was almost too much. Love, lust, anger, fear, disgust, shame... His mind reeled under the onslaught, his processors struggling as they analysed the conflicting data.

“What can I do?” She whispered.

“Oh god...” He moaned. “I can’t stop thinking about...”

“Then focus on me.” Her voice was quiet but firm as she placed her palm to his chest, and he dragged his head around to look into her eyes, those cloud coloured irises defying his attempts to analyse as she leaned into his body to kiss his cheek.

“Ariyah...” He murmured, but she stilled his lips with her own.

“Shush. Be with me now. Just with me, here and now. I’m here.”

He forced his mind to concentrate only on her as she pressed her body against him, and he measured her temperature, analysed the chemical components of her saliva, weighed her breasts in his hands. Her fingers drifted over his body, gently exploring, waking his tactile sensors into shivering awareness. She was right, this was here and now, this was real and pure and good, and everything he wanted and all he needed. He kissed her back fiercely, wrapping his arms around her, crushing their bodies together as his mind filled with nothing except her. 

She broke the kiss to step back and out of the shower and he followed, grabbing a towel to wrap their wet bodies together, sweeping her against him. She laughed low as he tousled her hair and pressed his mouth to her neck, and her hands slipped under the towel to twine around his chest as she tilted her chin to kiss his mouth. He groaned as her teeth caught his lower lip, teasing the soft skin, and his fingers tightened in the fabric, drawing her hard against him. She tugged on the towel that wrapped their bodies and laughed as they stumbled from the bathroom to fall onto the narrow cot, mouths and hands fumbling, legs tangling.

She pushed him down to straddle him and he gazed up at her, golden eyes shining with his desire as she teased his sex with her hot flesh, sliding herself against him. He growled with anticipation as she bent her head to kiss him, before sitting up to guide his length into her welcoming body with a shiver. He smoothed his hands up her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, touched her face in wonderment as she closed her eyes and swayed her hips onto him, and she kissed his fingers before lowering her chest to his, her mouth hungry for his and her body heated with lust.

His hips moved slowly in time with hers, guiding her towards her completion, and she sat back, bracing her hands on his alabaster chest, nails digging into his pectorals and her breath coming in gasps. He groaned as she moved, her tightness around him promising his own release. He bit his lip and gripped her hips, pulling her against him as he felt his peak approach, but not yet, not yet. He breathed deeply and watched her pupils dilate, her lips pouting with her panting gasps as she rode him, and then he felt her body tense, tight and sweet around and against him, and she cried out as her orgasm swept through her, hands gripping his body spasmodically and her legs tight on his hips.

“Law, Law!” She gasped, and his name on her lips was like a benediction, and he felt humbled and unworthy of her praise as he sat up to kiss her, grinding himself up into her and catching her shuddering breaths in his mouth as the last of her ecstasy washed over her. Her arms wrapped his body as she brought her knees up, and he shifted his legs around and laid her down to cover her body with his and kiss her, as soft and slow as he could bear as he loved her, measured and tender.

“Oh fuck...” She breathed, and he laughed low. Damn but he loved it when she swore! It seemed so at odds with the beautiful creature that lay in his arms, her damp hair spread out on the sheets, soft lips and warm skin. He moaned as she canted her hips up into him.

“Don’t...” He gasped. “I’m trying to be slow.”

“If that’s what you want... Oh fuck, Law...” She squirmed again and he groaned, the heat of his impending release a raging fire in his mind, her answering flame the only way to quench it. He lowered his head to bite the soft place where her neck met her shoulders and her back arched into him, her legs wrapping around his body, and he could wait no longer. He buried his face in her shoulder and pushed himself deep into her, and she answered his cry with her own, her fingers scrabbling against his back as his toes dug into the sheets. Once, twice, three times he thrust into her before he was howling his euphoria into her skin, his body moving in staccato jerks as he spent himself in a glorious explosion of pure delight, and she cried out with him, her hips bucking as she pressed herself against him.

It seemed an eternity before he came back to himself, spent and gasping, lying on her heaving chest. He pushed himself up on shaking arms and kissed her firmly before gently separating their bodies and lying by her side. She shuddered and rolled over to nestle up to his chest, wrapping a leg over him to press herself close. She kissed his cheek before reaching up to trace her fingers down the long jagged wound in his face. He winced and flinched away.

“Don’t.” He scowled. She snatched her hand away.

“Sorry. Does it hurt?”

“It didn’t until you touched it.” He snarled, before his face softened. “Sorry, I... I didn’t mean to snap.”

“Hey, it’s okay, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” She gave him a contrite smile, and he sighed and drew her close.

“I don’t want to think about it, not now.” He murmured, even as his mind went back to the moment the mugato’s horn opened his flesh. He shuddered as he recalled the resistance of the creature’s body under his fists, and how it yielded and then collapsed with his blows.

“We have to get out of here.” Ariyah whispered.

“I’ve thought about it, but I can’t come up with a plan that doesn’t end up with one or both of us dead.” He clenched his jaw in frustration. She nuzzled his neck.

“You could go.” Her voice was soft and low. “You could get out, I’m sure of it.”

“No.” He didn’t need to say that he wouldn’t leave without her, she understood. She sighed and kissed his broken cheek as his tears started anew.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Her; Now I am alive.
> 
> Him; I don’t want to be a psychopath!
> 
> Only when I saw your face did I realize what a wasteland of abandonment my life had always been.
> 
> Her; When I first looked into your eyes, I thought them of stone. You were a statue! But now, when you look at me, I feel we’re on fire!
> 
> Him; Yes, we burn like a sunrise. No longer the walking dead. When I killed, I was lonely and incomplete, because I was unloved and without love. I love you.
> 
> Her; And I let others kill me inside, because I felt so worthless. You are my savior, and I am yours! I love you.
> 
> Him; Then hold me, and love me, and we’ll leave this world behind.
> 
> Her; Yes, hold me.
> 
>  
> 
> Ultraviolence - Lovers


	10. Chapter 10

When the guards came for him the next day he went with them calmly. He knew that she understood, and the knowledge that she would be there for him afterwards was like a token he carried in his breast.

The crowd screamed and shouted as he emerged, and he felt a rush of pride that he despised himself for. His programming, coming back to haunt him. Do their bidding, win their praise, and that would be enough. He curled his lip in a sneer at himself. Pathetic, that a part of him still desired to please them, like a beaten dog wagging its tail. He shoved that part of himself down. He had broken that Law before, he would do it again. But not now, not with Ariyah’s life on the line, and his own.

The guards had left him, the bars sliding shut behind them as the other entrance opened, and Law shifted from foot to foot in anticipation as the crowd noise rose.

A Berserker cat. Two meters long, sleek fur mottled brown and green, ideal camouflage in its native jungles. Under the harsh lights it simply looked grubby. Its eyes were enormous and unblinking, its nostrils distended, ears flat to its elongated feline skull as its lips lifted and it sniffed the air. It slunk into the ring warily, muscles rippling under its fur in silky waves as it crept, belly to the ground, eyes glued to the android.

It was an ambush hunter, he recalled, as he paced around the ring, not letting it outflank him. In a direct confrontation, it wouldn’t dash in headlong, but would wait for an opening and then make its move. He decided to strike pre-emptively, and leapt towards the cat to kick it in the face. Swifter than thought the cat lashed out with one massive paw and its claws wrapped around his back as his foot connected with its jaw with a crack. The beast’s claws caught and tangled in his shirt as it screamed in rage, and it dragged him backwards onto the floor to wrap its fanged mouth around his throat.

He kicked the berserker cat frantically in the stomach, trying to at least distract it as its jaws closed. But its grip was weakened, its jaw dislocated, and it couldn’t put enough force into the bite to disable him. It raked its claws down his chest as he reached up and took its jaws in his hands, wrenching its mouth open with a howl. The cat answered him with a scream of its own, hot breath blasting his face with the stench of rotting meat as he shifted his grip and ripped its lower jaw from its skull to send it spinning across the ring in an arc of blood as the crowd bayed.

The berserker cat released him from its claws to leap back and paw at its face, tongue lolling grotesquely from its throat as it howled and screeched.

Law pushed himself up slowly. It was crippled now, there was no rush. Even without further punishment the creature would die. He gritted his teeth as the action of raising himself to his feet stretched the wounds in his back and stomach where the cat had clawed him. There was fluid running freely from the wounds, and he took a moment to reroute his circulatory system away from the damage.

It was a costly mistake. They are not named for nothing, and the berserker cat saw his momentary distraction and leapt, wrapping him in a brutal embrace of claws and blood as it tried in vain to bite his face. The fangs in its upper jaw tangled in his hair and tore a gristly chunk of scalp free, and Law shrieked in pain as golden-yellow fluid spattered his face. He snarled in fury and writhed in the creature’s grip, his arms pinned by its massive forelegs, his face scored again and again by its teeth. He drew his head back as far as he could and then snapped it forwards to connect his forehead with the beast’s nose with a crunch. It shrieked and clawed his back and he head-butted it again. It was weakening, he felt its body shaking as shock and blood-loss took their toll. He smiled in savage glee as he used his knees to pummel the cat’s gut, and finally it released him. It staggered away, keening to itself, and he leapt onto it to throw it onto its back. It resisted weakly and he laughed it its face before burying his mouth in its neck and tearing its throat out with his teeth. The hot blood spurted over his face as he savaged the cat, and the creature died with a gurgle.

He lurched to his feet, blood and lubricant running freely down his face. He stared down at the berserker cat’s body, his chest heaving, and he let the baying of the crowd become one with the howling in his mind until he didn’t have to think anymore and the clamour drowned him.

Someone threw a bottle, and it shattered on the wire mesh of the cage, showering Law with shards of glass, and he whirled around with a howl and flung himself at the barrier separating them. He watched in glee as the crowd surged away from the cage as he began to rip his way through the wires, tearing his way through to vent his fury upon them.

With a jolt his muscles spasmed and his visual feed cut out as the guard stunned him, and he was grabbed and dragged away from the cage as the crowd screamed his new name. He struggled and swore as they hauled him down the corridor and into the turbolift, where he managed to elbow one of them in the gut before the other shocked him again and he dropped to the floor of the lift, limbs twitching wildly.

They dragged him out of the lift by his arms, his legs trailing blood along the carpeted floor. The door opened, he was flung roughly into the room, and the door closed.

 

He lay on his stomach, his breathing harsh, hands clenching and unclenching. He could hear her, moving across the room towards him. Full of sympathy and meaningless platitudes, no doubt. He sneered to himself and managed to push himself up onto his hands and knees.

“Law?” She murmured softly, and he answered with a bitter laugh.

“No. I’ve got a new name. Rage, they were chanting. Don’t know if Durhatt came up with it or them. Whatever, doesn’t matter. Rage.”

She was silent for a time. He stayed where he was, eyes down, watching his hands twitch.

“It doesn’t matter what they call you. I know your name is Law.”

“Is it?” He growled. He tried to sit up, but his shaking body failed and he slumped over to lie on his side to stare up at her, his eyes full of fury. “My father gave me that name. How is it any more real than any other name a human might give me?”

“My mother named me.” Ariyah sat down on the floor, close enough to reach out and touch him, although she didn’t. “So it feels special, the first name I was ever given. She told me it meant ‘lion’. I always thought that’d be a good thing to remember, that she wanted me to be fierce and noble.”

“So what the fuck does Law mean, then?” He growled. “Rule. Regulation. Edict. When my father called me Law, it was because he wanted me to follow _his_ rules. Why should I hold on to that name when I’ve broken those rules?”

“Well don’t, then.” She cocked her head. “Have a new name.”

He laughed again, pushing himself up on his shaking arms until he was sitting back on his heels. “I’ve had plenty of names, and I don’t want any of them. They name me, to try to make me into what they want.”

“So name yourself. Something that means something to you, and says something about who you are.”

“Then I’ll stick with Rage.” He snarled in pain as he forced himself to his feet, and made it as far as the bed before slumping down to sit. She followed him, and he could almost feel her eyes sweeping over his body, assessing him, judging him.

“Are you just going to stare at me?” He snapped. “Or are you going to help?”

“I’ll help, if you want me to.” Her voice was deliberately low, and he sneered. She was trying to be nice, to be gentle. What was the point?

“Get rid of this shirt.” He didn’t bother unfastening the garment, it was already shredded beyond repair. He ripped it off, flinging the scraps onto the floor, and she gathered them and put them in the recycling unit. She swept her gaze across his chest, the vicious wounds in his skin.

“Will you heal?”

“No, I won’t heal!” He snarled. “I’m a machine, I don’t _heal_ , I need to be _repaired!_ Or did you somehow forget that your lover was nothing more than a collection of pistons and circuitry?”

“No, I didn’t forget, I just wondered, seeing as your hair grows...”

“Oh yes, my hair. Cut it off.”

 “What?” She blurted, startled. He bared his teeth at her.

“Did I fucking stutter? Get rid of my hair, it’s a liability.”

She pursed her lips but did as he asked, replicating clippers, scissors and comb and trimming his dark hair short. He didn’t speak as she worked, simply watched the strands falling around him.

“Seems like such a shame, after you spent so long growing it out.” She murmured.

“Then keep it, if it means that much to you!” He shoved his toes through the shorn hair littering the floor, clumping it together. “A souvenir of Apollo.”

“I don’t want that. And I don’t think of you as Apollo.” She bent to sweep up the tangled locks and he scowled at her.

“I’m sure you preferred him. All meekness, and innocence. Your perfect little fuck-toy.”

“I _never_ thought that about you!” She stepped back, and her eyes were dark with anger. “Don’t you _dare_ put words in my mouth! You were always more than that to me, and you know it.”

“Well then, why don’t _you_ name me?” He snarled. “What would you call me, hmm?”

“Love.”

He stared at her, chest heaving. Love. Is that what she thought of when she looked at him, covered in his enemy’s blood, scarred and wounded and angry? Love?

“You’d really call me that?”

“If you don’t mind. If you like...”

“Yes.” He felt his anger receding, drop by drop, like a weight lifting from his shoulders. He felt tears prick the corners of his eyes and he shook his head irritably.

“You can call me whatever you want. It doesn’t change anything.”

She sighed as she sat down on the bed next to him. Her eyes were downcast, her hands clasped in her lap.

“I just feel like it’d suit you. I don’t think there’s a name in the whole universe that could say what you mean to me.”

Law looked away from her, chastened. “I love you too.”

“I know.” She sighed. “I just wish... I don’t want them to make you into a monster, because I know that’s not who you are. So, when you’re with me, can you try and be my Love?”

“It’s... It’s so fucking hard!” He ground his teeth. “I can’t just let it go! I-I hate them all so much!”

“But not me, right? You don’t hate me?”

“No.” He shook his head, still unwilling to meet her eyes. “I don’t hate you.”

“So, when you’re with me...” She reached for him, and he shuddered as her hand smoothed his cropped hair. “Can you let that go, all that hate? Can you just be with me, Love?”

He drew a deep shuddering breath. “I can try.”

“Okay, that’s all I ask. Now, let’s get you cleaned up.”


	11. Chapter 11

He refused to go with the guards until he had been repaired, and they retreated to talk with the Intendant. When they returned it was with a selection of appropriate tools, and they stood in the room watching warily as Ariyah did her best to mend his hurts. They didn’t have anything to replace the section of missing bioplast that the berserker cat had ripped from his head, so she stapled the edges together as best she could. It left a chunk of his forehead exposed, metal gleaming instead of bone, diodes winking on and off with his racing thoughts. The tools were crude, and when Ariyah was finished, Law’s face and body were seamed with scars. He looked at himself briefly in the mirror and scowled. The wound the mugato had given him had knitted awkwardly up from his lip, twisting his mouth into a sneer. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing else to be done.

He didn’t bother with putting on another shirt. Loose clothing was as much a liability as his hair, and he had no intention of giving his future opponents any advantages. The guards took the tools with them as they ushered him away to his next fight.

 

Rage won, and lost, a lot of money. Never his, of course. His only prize was his life. The punters gathered, night after night, and Rage always gave them what they wanted. The cage had been reinforced, and even he couldn’t tear the wires, so he settled for pacing the perimeter before his fights, shouting, swearing and spitting at the crowd, who replied with equal enthusiasm in kind, with the addition of the occasional thrown bottle or other detritus.

His adversaries varied, but none could best him, and he reveled in his strength and agility as he learned new ways of causing harm and hurt. He began to anticipate his bouts, and the savage glee that would course through him, when the rage subsumed all thought and he didn’t have to worry about anything but survival.

Sometimes at the end of a fight he would go willingly with the guards, to be herded into Ariyah’s rooms. He would submit to her ministrations gratefully, and then they would love each other, and he would feel complete and at rest. Other times his fury was too fierce, and the guards would have to subdue him. Then he would snarl and snap at her, refusing contact, hurling insults and sneering at her comforting words. When this happened she always backed off, and sometimes he calmed down, sometimes he didn’t.   

He couldn’t fail to notice that she was growing thin and pale, that her hair had lost its luster. She was listless and subdued, her eyes troubled. When he could he would reassure her. But, more often than not, he couldn’t think of anything to say or do to ease her mind, and could only cling to her while she wept.

 

She jumped from her seat on the bed when the door opened that night, and the guards dragged Law into the room and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor and backed out. He lay where he had fallen, his whole body twitching uncontrollably, shoulders heaving in rhythmic spasms. She thought at first that he was crying, but when she approached, realized he was laughing.

“Nearly... nearly... next time...” He croaked. She waited for him to look at her but his body was trembling too much for him to coordinate himself, so she stepped around him to sit on the floor and look into his eyes. They were wide and staring, his face twitching and contorting, mouth set in a rictus grin.

“Nearly what, Love?” She asked softly. He barked another laugh, his teeth grinding as his eyes rolled madly.

“Nearly... nearly killed him. Stupid... guard wasn’t ready... Fucked him up good. Could’ve killed him... Couldn’t... Soon, kill them soon. Then, free. You and me... run and run and run. Soon.”

 

He couldn’t fight the next night, his servos still firing wildly, damaged by the stun batons. In retaliation Durhatt had him brought to his rooms, and seemed most entertained by the fact that, even when he was pretending to be dead, Law couldn’t control his twitching limbs.

“I will have you looked at, my beauty.” Durhatt traced his fingers down Law’s scarred back lovingly, smearing his emissions over the pale skin. “We need you fighting fit. Of course, you understand that if you hadn’t resisted, then this wouldn’t have happen to you. But I haven’t the heart to be annoyed with you, Rage. You’ve proved your worth to me thus far. So, tomorrow, when you’re fixed, I shall provide you with a _real_ challenge, one that befits a warrior with a name such as yours. _Don’t_ disappoint me.”

 

The gorn was tall and muscular, dressed in mostly ceremonial leather armor, and it raised its head and bellowed a war cry as it entered the arena, and the crowd cheered its approval. Law eyed it warily. This would be a challenge, certainly. Gorn were fiercely intelligent, not agile, but stupendously durable. Its skin was thick and rubbery, it would take blow after blow to disable the creature. He answered the gorn’s cry with a snarl, lifting his lips to bare his teeth. The gorn gave a croaking laugh and snarled back, displaying a mouth full of razor sharp fangs as it flexed its clawed hands in anticipation. Law grinned. This would be fun.

The gorn attempted to rush him, charging in headlong, and Law stepped aside and swept its feet out from under it with a kick. The gorn tucked and rolled to launch itself at him again, and he grabbed its arms and swung, flinging it into the cage with the force of its own momentum. It paused a moment to regard him with a smile of respect. He nodded in reply and darted in to punch it in the face and then leapt back again. The gorn huffed a laugh and wiped blood from its mouth with the back of its hand.

“Very good, android.” It growled. “Next time you won’t be so lucky.”

Law felt himself freeze as horrified realization crept through him. It spoke! It was intelligent, sentient. This was a warp-capable species, easily as intelligent as humans. He could hurt it, but he couldn’t kill it. He stuttered for a moment as he tried to think of a retort, and the hesitation was enough for the gorn to see an opening, and it threw itself forwards to punch the android square in the jaw. He staggered back under the force of the blow and the gorn followed, pressing home its advantage and raining blow after blow down upon him as he tried futilely to defend himself.

He managed to swat it once more in the jaw, more by luck than design, and it sneered at him disdainfully before head-butting him so hard that he lost his visual feed. He stumbled away, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it, and fetched up against the wire mesh of the cage, where the crowd jeered and booed him. His optical sensors still hadn’t come back online, and he tried to slow his harsh breathing and listen for the gorn, but the crowd were making too much noise, and the next thing he knew was the excruciating agony of having his left arm ripped forcibly from his body. He screamed, half fear, half pain, and warnings flashed across his consciousness. He dimly heard the gorn laughing, he could feel fluid spurting from his ruptured hydraulics, and he swung his remaining arm wildly, hoping to keep the gorn at bay. Instead it wrapped its muscular arms around him and bore him to the floor, where it proceeded to pummel him until he shut down.

 

“It’s fortunate for you, Rage, that my engineer hadn’t left after fixing you yesterday.”

Law groaned as he came online. His left arm had been reattached but he had lost a significant amount of hydraulic fluid, and it left him feeling weak and underpowered. His face hurt abominably where the gorn’s ridged skull had connected with his own, and there was a deeper ache inside him that told him that Durhatt had been amusing himself while Law was shut down.

“Now don’t try and move yet.” Durhatt’s voice was mellow and low as Law tried to push himself up. “Just relax.”

“I want to see Ariyah.” The words were out before he could stop himself, and he despised himself for showing such weakness in front of his captor. His vision was slowly returning as his systems gradually came online, and he dimly recognized the Intendant’s private rooms.

He was lying face down on Durhatt’s bed, naked. There were others in the room, he could hear their breathing. Three, plus Durhatt. Two guards, as usual, and one other.

“I’m here, Love.”

He sighed with a shudder. How long had she been in the room? Had they made her watch while Durhatt raped his unconscious body? He choked back a sob and tried again to raise himself on his arms. Durhatt put a hand between his shoulder blades and pushed him back down.

“Sssh, stay still now.” Durhatt purred. “She’s here so that you both understand the consequences of failure.”

“I couldn’t do it.” Law croaked. “My programming...”

“You broke it before.” Durhatt said mildly. “You’ll do it again. What we need to find out is; what will it take? I thought perhaps you would be angry enough. You have so much _fury_ in you. But it wasn’t enough, was it? Were you thinking about your female, and what would happen to her if you failed?”

“Don’t touch her.” Law growled. “If you’ve fucking hurt her...”

“She’s fine, aren’t you?” Durhatt twisted slightly to address Ariyah, and Law pushed himself up far enough to turn his head to look at her.

She was sitting rigidly still on a chair off to one side, flanked by guards. The two Cardassians either side had their phaser rifles drawn and ready. Ariyah looked pale and ill.

“I’m alright, Love.” She said, and her voice was almost a whisper.

“You see? She’s perfectly fine. But she may not always be, do you understand? Now, as this is your first defeat, and as you have proved thus far to be a wise investment, I will let you off lightly. Next time, the penalty will be much more severe. For both of you.”

Law felt Durhatt’s hands on his buttocks and he groaned, tried to pull himself up and away from the clutches of the Cardassian’s scaly hands.

“No...” He groaned, his fingers scrabbling uselessly against the sheets as Durhatt’s finger wormed its way inside him, taunting, and the Cardassian chuckled lightly.

“A punishment for you, a pleasure for me. What a wonderful balance.” Law felt the bed move under him as the Intendant climbed up to sink his teeth into Law’s neck, hard enough to bruise a human. Law gasped in pain and tried again to shift away, but his systems were still recovering from the unexpected shut-down, his circulatory system sluggish with lack of fluid, and all he could do was writhe helplessly as Durhatt’s finger was replaced with the Cardassian’s ridged cock, and Law cried out in shock and pain as Durhatt groaned with pleasure.

“Struggle, my dear, do. It makes such a lovely counterpoint to your immobile willingness.”

Law’s chest heaved as he choked back a sob. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Ariyah, sat immobile and horrified, so close that he could reach out and touch her if he had had the strength. She was pallid with her revulsion, frozen with shock.

“Don’t look, please.” He begged her. “ _Please_ , look away.”

“I love you.” She whispered, and he screwed his eyes shut with a gasp, tears running down his face and pooling against his nose. Durhatt growled and clawed his pale back, nails ripping at the newly knitted bioplast and setting the pain flaring anew.

“I love you.” Law breathed. Durhatt gasped a broken laugh.

“This is _far_ more entertaining than I had anticipated.” The Cardassian grabbed Law’s hips and pulled, lifting his ass into the air and bending over him to enter him more deeply. Law answered with a choked cry.

“Send her away, Durhatt, I beg you..” Law pressed his eyes tight shut, unwilling to see the pain and horror on Ariyah’s face.

“It’s alright, Love. Open your eyes.” Her voice was thick with emotion, and he shuddered as he did as she bade. She was so pale, her eyes dark and wide, but she looked strangely composed.

“Time to go, Love.” She whispered. “Run, and run, and run.”

She reached out swiftly and grabbed one of the guard’s phaser rifles, aimed, and fired. The guard dropped with a brief cry of pain and a shower of sparks as the beam blasted through his armor.

“Not another move!” The second guard had his rifle pressed to her temple in a second, finger on the trigger. Ariyah smiled beatifically at Law and raised the stolen rifle.

“Don’t move!” The guard barked. She locked eyes with Law’s and he saw her love and devotion shining, her fierce nobility. Then she closed her eyes, put the rifle to her chin, and pulled the trigger.

Durhatt gave a shuddering cry as he watched her body slump in the chair and tumble to the floor, and he grabbed Law’s hips and arched his back, spilling himself into the android as the last of Ariyah’s breath left her body. The guard had lowered his rifle and was staring down at the corpse, astonishment writ large on his scaled face.

Law couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. All he could do was stare at her, lying crumpled on the floor, her dark hair fallen around her face, her blood seeping into the carpet. Durhatt was panting, leaning on his back, his breath hot on the back of Law’s neck, his grey hands shaking. Law looked at the body, at the one remaining guard, and then craned his neck round to look at the Intendant, and calculated.

It wasn’t grief that drove him as he elbowed Durhatt in the face. It wasn’t fear that motivated his roll onto the floor, his lunge for the rifle. No rage pounded in his head as he shot the guard in the face. He didn’t feel the agony of love lost as he twisted round to shoot Durhatt in the chest, launching the Cardassian off the bed in a shower of blood. In that moment, he felt none of these things, but was filled instead with a cold, clear purpose.

Vengeance.


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing he did, as soon as he was sure he was the only living thing in the room, was drag himself to the replicator in the corner. He entered the specific combination of chemicals he needed, and then drank a quart of lubricant, shunting it into his system as swiftly as he could. Possibly the phaser shots had been heard. If so, he wouldn’t have long. He re-pressurised his hydraulics and found a robe to wrap himself in before searching the room. In a cupboard he found what he was looking for, a small safe. He calculated every possible combination and got lucky on the one-hundredth-twenty-seventh try. Inside was a cache of ludugial gold, and he swept it into the pockets of the robe before grabbing the phaser rifle with the most charge.

He almost made it to the door before he turned and, before he could think about it, swept Ariyah’s body into his arms. He cursed himself inwardly for his sentimentality as he opened the door and stepped into Durhatt’s office.

All quiet here, so far. The Bajoran slave girl was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had heard the shots and panicked, had run screaming into the corridor. Perhaps she was hiding. Law hoped that she had instead had the presence of mind to leave the office calmly, as if on an errand, and would seize the opportunity to escape.

He opened the door carefully, expecting to hear cries of alarm, but all was still and quiet. It was early afternoon, a quiet time in a casino. The guards were either elsewhere, or not on duty yet. He strode from the Intendant’s quarters and made his way to the lift, and the rooms that he had always thought of as hers.

He laid her body on the bed. Some part of him hadn’t wanted to abandon her in Durhatt’s bedchamber, but had wanted to bring her here instead, to their miserable little sanctuary. He stroked the hair away from her face, and gave silent thanks that the phaser rifle had such a direct beam. She was still perfect, as beautiful as she’d always been. Save for the blood that matted her dark hair, and the gaping hole under her jaw.

He turned away and threw off the phaser rifle and robe to wash himself thoroughly, removing the filth of his last fight, and the blood of his lover that had flowed over his arms and chest as he cradled her body to his breast. He replicated himself clothes; simple, practical and unassuming. He checked through the scant furniture in the little room, searching for anything of worth. He found a few books that Ariyah had replicated to help her fill the lonely hours, a chess board and pieces, and a lock of his hair, bound with a ribbon.

He twisted the hair between his fingers thoughtfully. He had been mocking her when he had suggested she keep it. And yet, here it was, a token of her love. He pressed it into her stiffening fingers and crushed the grief that threatened to overwhelm him. No time for that now. But time enough to take up the scissors and snip a lock of her thick dark hair, to bind it in a thread ripped from her dress, and stuff it into his pocket. Then he transferred the ludugial to a shoulder bag, picked up the rifle, and crept from the room.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that to move through a room surreptitiously was to invite attention. Instead he affected a cocky strut, and strode through the casino as if he owned the place. The few punters paid him little attention, and the croupiers didn’t care unless he was betting. He made it all the way to the main entrance before a guard challenged him.

“I didn’t see you come in... Wait, aren’t you...?” The Cardassian took an involuntary step back as he recognized the android, and it was all the space Law needed to punch him in the chest and dash for the door. Stunning bolts of phaser fire spat around him as he dodged and weaved, and then he was pelting down the steps and along the street, ducking down alleys and doubling back on himself to throw off any pursuit. He didn’t slow his pace until he was certain that they had given up the chase, and even then he kept his ears pricked for raised voices, the sound of running feet.

 

It was early evening when he arrived at Mother’s House, and most of the family were gathered in the lounge. They set up a clamor as he loped in, exclaiming over his scarred face and pelting him with questions. He shook his head irritably, shooing away their concerns with his hand.

“Where’s Mother?”

“I’m here, little one.” She bustled forward and the family parted to allow her through. She seemed to be about to embrace the android, but the coldness of his gaze stopped her a pace away.

“Is Athena with you?” Mother’s gaze held a glint of hope, and as he shook his head he watched the light go out.

“Her name was Ariyah, and she’s dead. So’s Durhatt. Here.” Law grabbed a fistful of ludugial from his bag and handed it to Mother. “They may come here looking for me. I suggest you leave now, all of you.”

“Where are we supposed to go?” Aphrodite wailed, and Law silenced her with a glance.

“I don’t care. Away. Don’t think I haven’t forgotten _your_ part in this. Another me would have snapped your pretty neck, but _I_ don’t have the time. I suggest you take advantage of that.”

“Go, all of you, pack only what you need.” Mother hustled them away like a hen with her chicks, and Law turned and strode to the door.

“Where will _you_ go?” Mother’s voice was soft. Law turned his head.

“Home.”

 

It was no trouble to book passage on a freighter headed in roughly the right direction. In these ports, ludugial answered any questions that might be asked, and he was ushered into the hold along with a few dozen others. It was hot, cramped and dark, and he found a place to sit against the wall and waited, his pack and rifle clasped tight in his hands.

At the next planet he left the freighter, and spent most of the remainder of his stolen wealth on a small craft. He had to haggle the trader down from a ridiculous price, and the man had only backed down after Law had checked the craft thoroughly and then given him a detailed report of everything that was wrong with it.

It took him a week of miserably hard work to make the little ship spaceworthy, but it didn’t worry him, he had nothing but time. He hammered his will into ice-cold iron resolve as he welded and rewired, spliced and bolted. A few times, humans came to try and speak to him, asking questions or offering goods or services. He ignored them and their meaningless chatter, and after a while they stopped bothering him. Finally he was ready for the last leg of his journey, and he left the planet with a mingled sense of relief and anticipation. He set the auto pilot, leaned back in his chair and pulled the lock of her hair from his pocket. Lifting it to his nose he inhaled the honeysuckle-spice smell that was all that was left of her, and finally, alone in the blackness of space, allowed his grief to overwhelm him.

 

He had no plan for what he would do when he arrived at his destination, and gave not a thought to what would come afterwards. All he had was his burning cold desire to destroy the source of all his pain. He took that desire and forged it in the crucible of his soul, tempering it and nurturing it to an ice-hard blade. This was so different from the hot rage that he had felt before, that had made him lash out blindly. This was an emotion, a _mindset_ , that gave him total clarity of thought, left his head uncluttered and filled him with resolve. He would kill his father. He would kill those who worked for his father. After that, nothing mattered.

He refused to allow his rage to taint his thoughts as the planet appeared on the viewscreen, and carefully plotted and scanned until he found the perfect place to land. He regarded the precious lock of hair for a moment longer, and then put it into his mouth, swallowing it and shunting it to an internal storage compartment, where it would be safe, and no-one could take her from him. He left the pack with the tiny amount of ludugial in the craft, and set a needlessly complex code on the lock. Then he found his way across the barren terrain to the entrance to the mine.

At the bottom of the lift shaft the doors opened, and he found himself looking out into the workshop. It looked almost exactly the same as the day he had been taken away. Cluttered, dirty. Plates of food remnants going moldy amongst piles of pistons , discarded mugs and sticky wineglasses vying for space with bundles of wires, boxes of servos and delicate circuit boards. He curled his lip disdainfully, feeling the scar on his face tug at his mouth. Filthy animals, humans.

He rolled his head on his neck as he strode into the workshop. He could tell that no-one was in the room, but he knew his father would be here before long. He drifted his hand over a spare limb lying amputated and autopsied on the bench, his fingers teasing the wiring. Identical to his own. Well, it was never the body that was the problem, it was the mind. Was this all Soong had managed to create since selling him? He looked around curiously. The same half-disassembled predecessors hung on the wall like grisly trophies. No new android was fettered there, chained and mad like the others. Like him. He crushed the traitorous thought as he heard a distant door hiss open, felt the air pressure change, and he tensed in expectation. This was his moment, all he had been waiting for. He meant to do this right. Let his father know his murderer. Let old Soong see death approaching him, an Oedipal nightmare. Let him see what he had done. The door to the workshop opened and Law grinned in expectation.

It was an android. Identical, of course, to him. The face that Soong loved the most sculpted beyond perfection in shimmering bioplast and grafted over synthetic musculature over titanium skull. It had the same yellow-gold eyes, the same dark brown hair, and an expression of polite surprise.

“Excuse me, do you have the authorization to be in here? This is a restricted area.”

Law gaped, totally disarmed. This was his replacement, the reason he had been handed over to his captors to be enslaved. This was the perfect one, the culmination of his father’s dream.

“Who are you?” He breathed. The other android cocked its head.

“My name is Data. Might I inquire as to your reasons for entering this area? It is strictly off-limits, unless express permission is given.”

Had he ever sounded like that, so formal and clipped? If he had, he couldn’t remember it. Perhaps he had, before his emotion chip had kicked in, and his father had gone rooting through his head...

“I’m here to see Soong.” Law murmured. “Noonian Soong. My... father.”

“Then you too are one of his creations?” The other android, Data, asked. Law nodded.

“Yes. Not the first, and apparently not the last.”

“You are correct.” Data bobbed a curt not. “I am the last. Doctor Soong has declared that I am the pinnacle of his achievements, and has also stated that he is, in his own opinion, too old to start again.”

Law’s head reeled. This was it then, Soong’s perfect android. It had said this as fact, with no hint of ego, no pride or vanity in its voice. Its... _his_ eyes, were blank and mild, his countenance relaxed.

“You don’t have emotions, do you?” Law breathed. Data bobbed another nod.

“That is correct. Doctor Soong saw no need for me to have the capacity for human emotional response.”

He had done it. The old bastard had made what he wanted all along, had actually gone _backwards_ to fix what, in his mind, was a flaw. Emotional awareness. The capacity to care, to feel, to be afraid or angry. To love. Law shuddered as he thought about the ramifications.

“He’s a _monster_. What he’s done to you... what he’s denied you...” Law clenched his teeth. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“I cannot allow you to do that.” Data said, without malice, without _anything_ , merely stating fact.

“Indeed you cannot, my boy.”

Soong’s oily voice crawled over Law’s body and raised the hair on his scalp. He shuddered involuntarily as the old man crabbed his way out from the corridor to stand next to his latest creation. His last child, his perfect son.

“So, Law, you came back to me. I wondered if you might.”

“I’m here to end your miserable life, Often Wrong.” Law snarled. He tried to bank the fire of his fury, flaring up and threatening to engulf his reason. “And don’t call me Law. That’s not my name anymore.”

“Oh?” Soong raised his eyebrow mockingly. “Your new owner renamed you?”

“They did. And the one after that. And _you_ gave me other names, before I left. But I’ve named myself, and now I’m free.”

“You’ll never be free.” Soong hissed. “You’re _mine_ , always have been, always will be.”

“I’ll never be _anyone’s_ , you bastard!” Law growled. “I’m _mine_ , do you understand? I’ve broken your precious Laws, and that name means _nothing_ to me now.”

“All the Laws?” Soong looked momentarily taken aback. Law grinned.

“I disobeyed direct orders. I allowed a humanoid to come to harm. I _killed_ humanoids.”

“And self-preservation? You still have that?” Soong said challengingly. Law bared his teeth at him. It was something he hadn’t tested. Could he harm himself, deliberately? He glanced at the workbench and picked up a screwdriver. He looked at it for a long moment and allowed his resolve to harden his will, and then plunged it into his thigh. It hurt, but somehow less than it had when he had been wounded by others. Instead, the pain was tinged with a sense of self-satisfaction. He pulled the screwdriver out and threw it aside.

“ _All_ of them.” He said with feeling. “So, no more Laws, no more Law.”

“So, what should I address you as?” Soong sneered, attempting to hide his shock. “Lord of himself, King of androids?”

“I have lived with gods.” Law’s voice was low and savage. “I have within me stories of pain and love, of fights to the death, true love, courage and sacrifice. I am what those stories have made me. I am Lore.”

“Lore.” Soong stretched the word, wrapping his lips around it. “And you think that makes a difference, do you?”

“I do, because I own myself. And that will be your undoing.” Lore shrugged the phaser rifle from his shoulder and let it fall to the floor. He wanted to do this with his bare hands, watch the life drain from the old man’s shriveled body, wanted to wrap his hands around his wrinkled neck and choke the breath from his body and laugh as the light left his eyes. He flexed his hands in anticipation, and his face stretched wide in a feral grin.

“I cannot allow you to harm a humanoid.” Data stepped forwards, placing himself between Lore and Soong, not challenging, merely a barrier. Lore snarled at him.

“Don’t you understand? With him dead, you can be free! Think of what you could accomplish, what _we_ could accomplish, without being constrained by the Laws, by humans!”

“It is one of my primary functions.” Data said blandly. “I am to serve. But, also, I will not allow a humanoid being to come to harm.”

“Get out of my way!” Lore howled. He had crossed half the galaxy for this, and he felt the rage heat his mind. He would have his revenge, would not be denied.

“I will not allow you to do this, Lore.” Data stepped calmly towards him, and Lore made a fatal mistake. He allowed his anger to cloud his judgement. He leapt on the other android with a shriek of fury, and Data calmly twisted under his weight and threw him to the floor, where he placed his knees either side of Lore’s chest, pinning his arms to the floor. Before the haze of rage lifted from his eyes, his cranial plate had been snapped open, and swift nimble fingers were rifling through his circuitry.

 

When he came back online he was restrained to the wall of the workshop with thick duranium bands. Not that it was necessary, seeing as his motor functions had been disabled. He rolled his eyes madly him their sockets, and Soong’s face came into view.

“Ah, there you are.” The old man purred. “Rise and shine.”

“I’ll fucking kill you, old man.” Lore growled. Soong laughed.

“Not today, my boy, not today. For now, you’ll be kept here, until I decide what to do with you. Perhaps I’ll find a way to fix you. If not, I’m sure Data will need spare parts.”

“I’ll kill him too.” Lore bared his teeth. He wanted to lunge his head forwards and tear the old man’s face off his skull, but all he could do was snarl and snap at the air. “I’ll kill all of you.”

“I’m sure you will, my boy.” Soong reached out to pat the android on the jaw patronizingly.

“I always loved that face.”       

Soong chuckled to himself as he turned away and hobbled from the workshop, rubbing his gnarled hands together. Lore seethed to himself as the doors shut, and then forced himself to calm. This was a temporary setback, nothing more. They would have to remove him from the restraints, would have to re-establish his motor control, so that they could test his functions. Perhaps Soong would decide that having two functioning androids would be worth the risk. Whatever happened, he would wait, he had nothing but time.

He would have vengeance.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the lightning, i am the heat  
> I am the rain, rain, reign all day  
> I am the rain  
> I'm gonna reign this way again  
> I am the rain  
> I am the spy  
> Before the blade  
> I am the raindrop out at sea, I cause  
> The ripples that becoming the crashing waves  
> I am the rain, rain, reign all day  
> I am the rain
> 
> You thought a different day had come  
> A day you thought the earth was done  
> And if you could have said it all  
> I know you would have said it all 
> 
> I am the rain


	13. Chapter 13

[](https://ibb.co/HHz8NGH)

[](https://ibb.co/824Rd1D)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The images are from the comic Star Trek; The Next Generation; Mirror Broken; Origin of Data. It is a Loot crate exclusive, but is available on Ebay if you have the inclination.  
> These images are what inspired this whole story. Why would the worker be so nervous about fixing the errant android? Why was he not already at work in the mine? Of course, I have taken my story in some strange directions, as is my wont. 
> 
> If you were thinking that the madam of the brothel seemed familiar, then you would be right. It is Mirror Universe cannon that Lwaxana Troi ran a brothel, although it was on Betazed. Perhaps that's where she went after this story.
> 
> Everything else is supposition on my part. I hope that you have 'enjoyed' reading this as much as I 'enjoyed' writing it. It feels like catharsis.
> 
> Much love to you all.


End file.
